Cat's Eye
by KayValo87
Summary: When 14 year old Sam leaves on a school camping trip, the last thing he expected was to find himself alone in the woods, cursed by a crazy wizard wannabe. Will he be able to find his family? More importantly, will they be able to cure him?
1. Chapter 1

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEANUT BUTTER AND NINJA!**

**(: YAY KITTIES! :)**

Okay, yeah, they aren't exactly human, but cats are people too right? Also, I'm not sure what day there birthday ACTUALLY is, but I know it's this month.

Also, I know I wasn't gonna post any new stories until I finished some of my other ones, but this one has been bugging me for a long time. On top of that I had a rough week (I got my first "F" ever, and on a writing assignment of all things) and my sweet kitties have really been there to cheer me up and lick my fingers after I scratch their chins ... okay, this is only Ninja, but Peanut will curl up with me on the couch and that is cute too.

Anyway, point is I needed a pick me up and I had writer's block on my other stories. So, here ya go ...

**

* * *

Chapter 1**

Sam stuffed a couple extra t-shirts into his backpack barely able to contain his excitement.

"I can't believe I am actually going." He exclaimed, grabbing extra batteries for his flashlight.

"I don't see what the big deal is." Dean muttered from behind a magazine. "It's not like you've never been camping before."

"But this is a REAL camp, with canoeing and campfires," Sam explained, "not a tent in wendigo territory, with drills and nightly watches."

"To each his own." Dean shrugged, tossing his reading materiel aside. "You ready or what?"

"What's the rush? You're not even going."

"As if I would WANT to spend a week with a bunch of geeky upcoming freshman." Dean smirked. "No, as soon as I drop your a%$ off, I will be hooking up with Audrey Clark. And when I saw hooking up-"

"I get it Dean." Sam cut him off.

"Aw, Sammy, are you jealous?"

Rather then dignify that with a response, Sam ignored his brother's annoying grin and focused on making sure he had everything he might need. Clothes … towel … extra shoes … flashlight … toiletries … hunting knife … salt … lighter … butterfly knife ...

"Here." Dean handed him his favorite colt 1911, the one he got for his last birthday, and a box of bullets. "There are both silver and iron in there, so you should be fine."

"I'll be fine without it." Sam insisted, handing the weapon back. "Besides, it's a school trip, I don't want to get the cops called on me."

"You sure."

"Seriously, I'll be fine."

Dean shrugged, trying to seem indifferent, but Sam knew him better then that. There Dad had already checked out the camp grounds for any sign of danger before giving his permission to attend the school sponsered trip, but that might not stop the older brother from taking a casual drive out that way at least once in the next week.

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After watching Dean pull away, Sam raced up the steps of the school, not wanting to be late for his first real summer camp.

"Hey kid!"

He turned to see a guy, about Dean's age but not quite as big, walking up to his with a think book. Stiffening when he realized he was alone out here, Sam kept his back to the wall and glanced around to see how many ways he could potentially out run this guy.

"Relax," he smiled, slowly stepping closer, "I just heard you were good with Latin and wanted to know if you could tell me what one of these pages says. Two minutes, tops."

Now that he was out of the shadows, Sam recognized him as one of the seniors, Ethan … something. Relaxing a bit, he glanced and his watch and calculated how much time he could spare.

"I guess I could take a look."

Ethan's grin widened and he opened the book to a marked page. After doing a quick scan, Sam realized what type of book he was looking at.

"Where did you get this?" He questioned seriously.

"Why?" Ethan asked innocently. "It's only a dumb book, just tell me what the page says."

Sam shook his head and took a step back.

"That's some pretty dark stuff, dude. If I were you, I'd get rid of it FAST."

Ethan sighed and set the book on the school's thick cement railing.

"Well … you're not me."

The last thing Sam saw was a Louisville slugger coming straight for his head.

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Sam woke up feeling like his head had been stuffed full of cotton. He tired to push himself up, but immediately lost his balance and tumbled into the long grass.

"Easy there, little guy." Ethans voice boomed over him. "You're not as big as you used to be."

Looking up into a strange blue and green world, Sam was startled to see the senior, literally, towering over him. Before he could move, Ethan and picked him up behind his neck and deposited him on a huge stone table.

"What did you do to me!" Sam demanded, hoping the panic he was feeling was not seeping into his voice.

"Hang on, I can't understand you yet."

Yet? What was he- Sam looked down in horror at his paws and tail. This couldn't be happening!

"Here we go!" Ethan announced happily.

Suddenly all Sam could see was white then the world was back as it should be. He found himself sitting on, what he now recognized as, an alter somewhere in the middle of the woods. His stuff was gone, which meant no weapons, but that didn't mean he was helpless.

"Pretty neat tric-"

He cut the older boy off with a kick to the stomach before running into the trees. Unfortunately, he was still dizzy and Ethan soon tacked him to the ground.

"Let me go!"

"Chill man," Ethan grunted, half carrying him back to the alter, "You can leave … just as soon as you know the rules."

"What rules?" Sam spat, struggling to free himself from the older boy's grip.

"Here's the thing." Ethan dropped him at the base of the alter. "This is the only thing that can make you human, and only when the sun sets. As soon as dawn hits, no matter where you are, you are back to being a cat."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can." Ethan grinned wickedly.

He picked up the book from the corner of the alter and tossed it into Sam's lap.

"Translate it."

"No way."

He shoved the book to the ground and pulled himself to his feet. It had some of the darkest magic Sam had ever seen and he was not about to turn that kind of power over to his psychotic classmate.

"You will … or you will never be human again."

"And if you don't take the curse off, my brother will kill you."

Based of the flash of fear in Ethan's eyes, he knew Dean well enough to know that was no idle threat.

"If he does, then the curse becomes permanent since only I can reverse it." He stated confidently. "Besides, he's miles away, you would never make it there before dawn, and you can only become human again IF you are here at sunset."

"I'll take my chances."

Not knowing where he was, Sam started running north, hoping he would fine a road. Once he got back to town, his family would find a way to fix this … they had to.

* * *

So what do you think? Should I put this on hold and focus on everything else, or should I work on everything? (I can do it either way.)

Let me know and I'll get started on the next chapter ... of whatever you guys want me to work on.

BTW, I have been told transitions are helpful. How did you like these ones? (Did you notice the cat ear silhouettes between the letters?)


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry I left you guys hanging so long. End of internship, plus end of school term, equals not a lot of free time.

Anyway, I hope you like this part.

Enjoy ...

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Chapter 2**

Dean Winchester woke suddenly, but remained perfectly still until he could determine the cause. Opening one eye told him it was barely past dawn and that his dad was still asleep. The room was silent, his gun was still under the pillow, all seemed good … except for the pressure on his back. It couldn't have been more then a pound or two, but it was moving. The second whiskers touched his neck, Dean had only one image in his mind … rat.

"H^&% no." He muttered.

In one swift motion, Dean tossed the animal to the floor, jumped out of bed, and grabbed the gun from under his pillow. Training the weapon on the small figure that had retreated under a chair, but the tail that peeked out was much furrier then he expected.

"What the-?"

Dean flipped back on he safety and lowered the weapon, crouching down so he could see under the chair. Crouched in the corner was, by far, the cutest kitten he had ever seen in his life.

"Aw, come here little guy." Dean coaxed, surprised when the cat actually listened.

Tiny paws balanced themselves on his arm as the light gray ball of fluff rubbed against his chest.

"Sorry if I scared ya," Dean whispered, scratching him behind the ear, "but it's not safe to sneak up on a guy like that."

"Dean, who the h&$^ are you talking too?" John's voice grumbled from behind him.

Oh crap, Dean thought, glancing down at the kitten. He didn't know how the little guy got in their room, but the most likely culprit was that he had the door open too long when he came home last night. He was going to have to play it cool if he wanted to avoid a what-if-it-was-something-else lecture on paying attention.

"Oh … just … the cat."

Yeah, real smooth Dean.

"And when, exactly did we get a cat?"

Dean checked the clock, keeping his back to his dad. It was about six now … he got back around two … so that would make it …

"Um … sometime in the last four hours or so."

"Dean." John stated, on his way to the bathroom.

He didn't have to say anymore, his tone was enough to convey the message. Drooping his shoulders, the teen sighed and headed for the door.

"Yeah … I know."

As he approached the door, the kitten started to cling to his shirt, latching to the fabric with his tiny, yet sharp, claws. Good thing he sleeps in loose fitting shirts. Dean stepped outside, squatting down in the open doorway.

"Sorry, little dude," He whispered, prying the cat off his shirt, "but Dad is the boss."

He placed the kitten on the ground in front of him, stroking his back. He little guy looked up at him with an expression that rivaled Sam's puppy dog eyes. Man, this was WAY harder then it should be. Propping his elbows on his knees, Dean rubbed his face, trying to figure out why he had the strong desire to explain himself to a two pound fur ball.

"Look, if it was up to me-" Dean started, cutting off when he felt something move between his arm and leg.

Moving his hands, he looked around to see it was gone.

"Dean …" John called from inside, "why is your cat on my bed?"

"So you admit it's mine?"

The older hunter just shot him a look, before sweeping his arm across the bed in an attempt to knock the cat off the bed. Surprisingly, the kitten seemed to anticipate the motion and just jumped over John's arm, before settling back in his spot. Dean watched in amusement as his dad tried several more times to dislodge the cat, from shaking the blankets to tilting the mattress, but the stubborn little guy held fast.

"Why don't you try a flute, Dad?" Dean snickered. "It works with snakes."

"Okay, smarta#$," John grumbled, "YOU get it."

Not one to back down from a challenge, Dean leaned over to try and pry the cat off the bed … which turned out to be unnecessary since the fur ball immediately climbed up his arm and settled on his shoulder. Wrapping it's tiny body around the back of his neck, the kitten rubbed the side of it's face against Dean's cheek, purring contently.

"That can't be normal." John muttered.

"Hey, just because it doesn't like you-"

"Dean, no normal cat would have done that." John stated, unzipping his duffel.

The cat stopped purring, watching the older hunter every move. Narrowing his eyes and the sudden change, Dean turned to his dad.

"So … what does that mean?"

"It means …" John unsheathed a long silver knife, "that we can't be too careful."

The kitten trembled at the sight of the blade, mewing in fear. Instinctively placing a protective hand over it's furry body, Dean took a step back.

"You're going to kill it?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Dean." John rolled his eyes. "We don't even know if it's a real cat."

When he came closer, the kitten ducked into Dean's shirt, cowering on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah," Dean scoffed, "I see what you mean. It's probably trying to throw us off it's evil plot with it's deceptive shaking."

"Watch you tone." John snapped.

Pulling the cat free before he wound up getting clawed, Dean held up his other hand to his dad.

"All I'm saying," he started calmly, "is we should make sure. For all we know this could belong to some little kid somewhere. You really want to explain to a crying six-year-old why their kitty's been fitted with a halo?"

John paused, eying the terrified animal. As if on cue, the little guy gazed up at him with huge green blue eyes and let out a single meow, as if to say please. Sam himself could not have done better.

"Fine," John caved, "but we are at least going to test it."

"Fair enough." Dean agreed.

He held the cat still while his dad pricked one of his paws with the silver knife. Nothing.

"Satisfied?"

"Not yet."

He grabbed a flask of holy water, pouring it over the cut. The only response of the cat was to lick the blessed liquid off of it's paw.

"You done now?" Dean asked, fishing through the med kit one handed to find a small piece of gauze.

"For now." John responded, grabbing his duffel and heading for the bathroom. "Go get breakfast while I take a shower."

"And the cat?" Dean asked, wrapping up his little paw.

John sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Just make sure it's gone before Sam gets back." He said, a bit reluctantly. "Otherwise, we are never going to get rid of that thing."

Setting the cat on his bed with a triumphant smile, Dean quickly got dressed.

"Don't worry about him." He gestured towards the bathroom. "He'll come around."

Grabbing his keys, Dean headed out to the Impala and opened the door, not too surprised when the kitten jumped in and settled on the passenger seat.

"Okay, you can come with me. But I'm warning you now, one scratch on the upholstery and I'm trowing you out the window."

For a second, it looked as if the cat rolled his eyes, but Dean just shrugged it off and headed for the nearest diner, wondering if Sam was awake yet.

* * *

So, what do you think so far?

Let me know, and I'll get started on the next part right away.

BTW, I changed my profile pic to one of the cat I am basing Sam's appearance on, so feel free to take a look. :) NOTE: It will change sometime in the next 24 hours ... or at least that's what the site told me.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so I left you guys hanging for so long after chapter one and got such a good response from chapter two, that I decided to post again. :)

Now, just so you know, I wrote a great deal of this chapter late at night. (Hopefully it won't be too bad spelling and grammar wise.)

Anyway, I'm going to be late for class if I don't wrap this up so ... enjoy ...

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Chapter 3**

Placing his paws on the dashboard, Sam surveyed the town in shades of blue and green. A cat's eyesight may be weird, but at least he wasn't blind. However, the heightened senses of hearing and smell were taking a bot more trouble to get used to. The thunderous rumble of the Impala's engine drowned out most everything, but nothing could block the overwhelm his new sense of smell. He could even smell the M&Ms that Dean had claimed got thrown out by accident. Sam had known that the older teen was holding out on him.

"Jerk." He muttered to himself.

"You need something, little dude?" Dean's voice boomed, causing Sam to jump a little.

Absentmindedly shaking his head, Sam kept an eye out for the street that the high school was on. Convincing his family not to kick him to the curb was the easy part, now he had to find a way to tell them who he was. But how the h&^$ was he going to do that when they thought he was away at camp? If only he could get Dean to the school, maybe-

"Here we are." Dean announced cheerfully.

Sam looked over at the mini-mart and shook his head. One of these days he was going to have to explain to his brother that doughnuts were not a food group and breakfast USUALLY included something healthier then coffee.

"Wait here," Dean instructed, climbing out of the car, "this will only take a minute."

"Okay." Sam replied, before he remembered he didn't speak words anymore, much less English.

Amazingly, Dean seemed to understand him anyway and nodded toward him, rolling the window down before heading in. Sam was defiantly grateful for that, a black car was not a cool place in the middle of summer. Wondering over the seat while he waiting for his brother's return, Sam marveled at the way his new senses gave him a whole new outlook on the Impala. He could smell gun oil on the steering wheel, gun powder coming from the glove box, and of course the scents he would know anywhere … his family. Soap, grease, sweat, everything that made up his family's scent was all over their car.

"Good thing we've never been pulled over by a canine unit." Sam commented to himself, as he discovered a few hidden weapons even he didn't know about. "Jeeze Dad, paranoid much?"

A new scent wafted through the window and made Sam's fur stand on end. He couldn't place t, but something about it made his cat like reflexes what to scramble out of the car as fast as he could. Luckily, his teenage mind was in control enough to keep him from bolting. Placing his paws on the door, Sam peered through the half open glass trying to see what had spooked him, jumping back when a large creature jumped against the door.

"Dean!" He screamed, but it was no use.

Even if he could hear him over the barking, there was no way he would understand the call for help. Jumping under the seat, Sam pushed as far back into the corner as he could and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of the monstrous dog, scraping against the side of the car. Dean, he thought to himself, where are you?

"ROCKY NO!" A girl called out.

The barking got quieter, but did not fade entirely as the girl continued speaking.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into him."

"It's okay." Dean's voice reassured her. "Nothing a little touch up paint won't fix."

Hearing his brother's voice, as well as the dog going quiet, gave Sam the courage to climb out from under the seat. Dean had his back to him, leaning his shoulder against the car, and facing a pretty girl, about his age, with a jet black ponytail and wide gray eyes. She smelled faintly of lavender and sugar cookies, but heightened senses or not, Sam's focus was still on the monstrous dog at her feet.

"I can pay for that." The girl offered.

"Don't worry about it sweetheart, no harm done."

"But sir-"

"Dean."

"Dean," the girl blushed, "there is that big scratch there."

He turned to examine the side of the car. Based on the slight wince, he was a lot more unhappy about the car then he was letting on, but he still flashed the girl one of his classic smiles.

"It's nothing. See, I've got a magic touch … maybe I could show you sometime."

She giggled while Sam wondered if his jaw could drop as a cat. He was almost eaten by Mistro the Labrador, and his self-proclaimed protector was FLIRTING? It really shouldn't be that surprising, but that didn't make him feel any better either. Jumping from the armrest, to the window, to his brother's head, Sam started to bat his paws against Dean's forehead.

"You freaking jerk!" He vented, not caring that it only came out as meows. "I get attacked by a freaking hell hound and you are too busy hitting on it's keeper to notice!"

"Dude, what is wrong with you?" Dean demanded, knocked Sam off his head.

Falling backwards, Sam slipped between Dean's shirt and jacket, quickly heading towards the ground. Motivated by Rocky's renewed interest, as demonstrated by his loud barking, Sam knew he had to stop his decent or become a chew toy. Instinctively sticking out his claws, Sam managed to catch himself on the fabric of Dean's shirt … quickly realizing that cotton wasn't the only thing he caught.

"Gah! Son of a b^&%$!" Dean growled, twisting this way and that. "Let got you d^$% fur ball!"

"I'm so sorry." The girl apologized. "Rocky loves cats … they just don't seem to like him back."

"No s#*&." Dean muttered.

His hands kept hitting Sam through the jacket, nearly knocking him off balance several times, but he just held tighter.

"Cut it out!" Sam shouted. "Are you trying to kill me? Hold still already!"

No luck. Moments later he found himself crashing to the ground, almost immediately being surrounded by a giant mouth and overwhelmed by dog breath. His one thought was, if I live through this … I am going to kill Dean.

* * *

Sorry to leave you hanging again, but I have to go to class now.

However, if I get an overwhelming response again, maybe I will get chapter three up before I go to bed.

NOTE: I also play to update "Mojo Rising" and Learning Curve" before the day is done.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys, sorry I haven't been writing much. It's finals week and I will turn in three assignments (that add up to 50% of my final grade) tomorrow.

Those of you who pray, please pray for me.

Anyway, writing is therapeutic for me, so I thought I would kill two birds with one stone and give you guys another chapter.

Enjoy ...

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Chapter 4**

Dean drove back to the hotel, trying to ignore the dark look being shot at him from the passenger seat. He didn't know why, by something about the kitten's death glare was eerily familiar. It totally creeped him out.

"I'm sorry, okay?" He stated, wondering why he was apologizing to a cat in the first place. "And that dog was just playing, it's not like it hurt you."

He glanced down to see if the apology had made any difference. Nope.

"Look on the bright side," he offered, returning his gaze to the road, "that hot chick was totally feeling you up."

A low growl now accompanied the glaring.

"Hey, it's not like you were the only one who had a bad morning." Dean shot back. "Not only do I now have scratches all over my back, but she was so worried about your furry a$& that I didn't even get her number."

The cat finally broke his stare when he turn an almost hurt gaze towards the window. Man, this little guy was like the feline embodiment of Sam! Of course if he left his brother to get half eaten by a dog, he would have to spend the next day or so watching his back. Sammy was notorious for paybacks. Dean just hoped that glaring was where the similarities ended. The only good thing about the run in with beauty and the beast was that he know knew the cat was a boy … though based on the way he was all over him and tried to squirm away from the girl, he was starting to think the fur ball was gay. Can cats be gay?

"Mrooow." The cat called irritably.

Dean glance up to see he had nearly past their hotel. Cursing under his breath, he turned just in time to pull into the parking lot. Hitting the breaks, Dean shot out his arm, barely able to catch the coffee before it spilled all over the seat.

"That was close." He muttered to himself, as he checked to make sure breakfast was intact.

He suddenly noticed that the passenger seat was empty, when tiny paws reached up and pulled a, very irritated, kitten off the floor.

"Sorry, little dude." He smirked. "Try and hold on next time."

The cat cocked his head and held up his paw, fully extending his claws, before lowering it slowly towards the seat. Dean got the message loud and clear.

"Do and DIE, fuzz ball."

The kitten paused for a second, his claws hovering threateningly over the leather. After a moment he retracted his claws and padded across the seat towards Dean. Without so much as glancing at the teenage hunter, the cat jumped over him to the arm rest, climbed up to the window, and hopped out. After grabbing the breakfast items, Dean found the cat waiting at the door, his tail flicking in annoyance.

"Here you go, your highness." Dean said, opening the hotel room for him.

Practically rolling his eyes, the cat walking into the room and jumped up on the chair next to where John was making noes in his journal. His dad glanced down at the, clearly irritated animal, raising an eyebrow at the drying slim that caused his fur to alternate between spiked and slick.

"What'd you do to the cat?"

"Rover wanted to play," Dean answered, setting their food on the table and shrugging out of his coat, "fluffy, here, didn't."

John shook his head and returned to his work.

"Sam will be back Saturday, right?"

The cat looked up a John with wide, sad eyes. Meowing repeatedly, he climbed onto the table beside the eldest hunter, placing a paw on the older man's arm. Without looking up John shook him off and pushed him back onto the chair. Hanging his head in defeat, the kitten whimpered softly, retreating the the floor under the table. What was with this cat?

"Dean?"

"Uh … yeah?"

"Sam's back Saturday, right?"

"Yeah, around two or three." Dean answered, watching the cat curl up, his ears drooping slightly. "Why?"

"I found a hunt, next town over." John responded, snatching a newspaper off the table. "Shouldn't take more then a day or two."

"What is it?" Dean asked, pulling up a chair.

John spread the paper on the table and pointed out an article titled "Comatose Man Blamed For Murder". The cat jumped up onto Dean's lap and looked over the story. Forget about gay, can cats be bi-polar?

"Matthew Florek was robbed and killed the other night after closing up his uncle's bar. Third one this month." John summarized. "Security footage showed Steven Keller committing the crime, only he has been in a coma for three years."

"Meow mow mrow." The cat chattered, looking up at John.

"Since the other two murders had no evidence, Steven Keller is the prime suspect." John continued, ignoring the animal.

"Meow mow mrow." The cat repeated, quickly going back being irritated.

"Morons." Dean muttered, setting the kitten on the floor and digging into the bag. "How do they think he did it?"

"Mow mrow mow meow mrow." The cat grumbled. "Meow mow MROW!"

"I think fluffy is trying to say something." Dean commented, pulling a doughnut out of the bag and squatting down in front of the kitten. "What is is boy? Did Timmy fall down the well?"

Growling, the cat batted his paw across Dean's chin.

"Mow." He grumbled, climbing back onto the table.

Dean smiled and shook his head. He didn't speak feline, but if this cat was as much like Sam as he seemed, he could have sworn that the little guy just called him a jerk.

* * *

So, I have to work on my final essay now, but if I get a good response from this I will try and get the next chapter up tonight.

And I was serious about the prayer thing ... with the family drama still going strong, my life is pretty insane right now.


	5. Chapter 5

Good news, bad news, more good news time ...

Good news, I finished summer term at my college! YAY!

Bad news, the paid part of my internship ended. :(

More good news, I now have a lot more time to write fanfiaction! YAY! :)

Okay, now lets get to the part you guys really want ...

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Chapter 5**

Sam scanned the article, extremely grateful that he had not lost the ability to read. Looks like the only other thing the story mentioned was that police were questioning whether or not the guy is really in a coma, despite the doctors assurances that he was. Not much to go on, but it definitely looked like there kind of gig.

"So what do you think it is?" Dean questioned, pushing him off the paper.

Shaking his head, Sam sighed inwardly. He had asked that three times already! Being stuck as a cat really sucked.

"Most likely some form of astro-projection." John answered, gathering his stuff. "Get anything you might need, I want to be on the road in an hour. Hopefully we can et this wrapped up by the time Sam gets back."

"About that …" Dean scratched his eyebrow, "maybe while we are out we could swing by that camp, you know, just to see how he's doing."

Sam perked his ears up, looking from his dad to his brother in hopeful anticipation. Normally, he would be annoyed at his family checking up on him, but in THIS case …

"Dean, we already talked about this … twice."

Sat whipped his furry head towards his dad. When did they talk about this?Where was he?

"Sam is fourteen now." John continued. "He is old enough and responsible enough to look after himself."

Torn between pride and his fathers words and sheer horror that it would be a week before they realized he was gone, Sam could only stare in shock as his spark of hope fizzled out.

"But Dad," Dean protested, "he's never been away from us for more then a few days without getting into trouble."

"Yes!" Sam said, before he realized what he had agreed to and glared at his older brother. "Hey!"

"Sam is fine." John stated firmly. "Now pack up."

Sighing in defeat, Dean nodded and started to gather his stuff, both hunters ignoring the cat perched on the table.

"But …" Sam whimpered, hanging his head, "I'm not fine."

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Sam dung his claws into the Impala's carpet, trying not to fall over again. He had given up on the back seat after the third sharp sent him straight to the floor, and had spent the last ten miles or so trying to figure out how to get to Dean's lap without knocking himself unconscious against one of the metal bars holding up the seats. Who knew their car was so dangerous.

"Where'd you go, little dude?" Dean called over the hum of the engine.

Moving on paw at a time, Sam crawled forward to where he could see his brother looking over the back seat.

"Help." He pleaded, knowing that saying anymore was useless in his current state.

Lucking for him, Dean seemed to understand and turned around, reaching his arm towards him. Sam lifted up one paw, standing so he could reach him, but was back down a second later when a pot hole jostled the car.

"Come on …" Dean coaxed, leaning farther over the seat, "you can do it."

The second attempt was more successful, as Sam managed to get a hold of the sleeve of his brother's jacket. That was enough for Dean to get a grip on him and haul his furry body up to the front.

"Just stick with me. Little dude." He said, Placing Sam on his leg. "I've got your back."

The calm reassurance in his brother's voice brought Sam back to all the times he had been sick or afraid. His brother had always been there for him, would always be there for him … but now … he couldn't be there for Dean. What if they couldn't fix this? What if he was stuck a cat forever? Tears filled his eyes as he thought about going through life as a helpless, useless, feline. Because of some stupid, power hungry teenager, Sam might never be able to watch his brother's back again. No more banter, no more sparing matches, no more anything. He moved up and snuggled against Dean's chest, trying to hold back the sobs that he knew were coming.

"Hey, you're okay." Dean whispered gently, scratching Sam behind the ear. "I got ya. You're okay."

This time he couldn't stop the tears, as he burred his face in Dean's shirt. He was no where near okay, but at least he still had his family. As long he held on to that, he would could still hope.

* * *

Sorry it's a bit short, but I wanted to show Dean's reaction to this from his POV.

Let me know what you think of this part and I'll get started on the next one.

P.S. I meant to have this up sooner, but I ended up working on my homework until 2am, then I had school, then it was my friend's birthday yesterday and I spent the day with them ... anyway, I hope to have at lest one or two more chapters (of various stories) up before I got to bed. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, just to warn you now, this chapter kind ran away from me and became twice as long as a typical chapter ... hope you all don't mind the added length.

That being said, enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 6**

Dean felt his shirt getting wet and pulled the kitten back. Was he crying?

"What's wrong?" He asked wiping the tears away. "Are you sick?"

The cat responded by nuzzling his face into Dean's palm and curling up on his lap. The teenage hunter stroked the top of the cat's head, trying to figure out what to do. He didn't know why he felt such a strong need to take care of the fur ball, but the fact was he did and he had to find a way to make the little guy feel better.

"Dad, I think something's wrong with the cat."

John glanced over, a hint of concern in his usually hard eyes.

"Check his ears." The older man stated, returning his eyes to the road.

"You think something crawled in his ears?" Dean questioned, looking down at the kitten.

Flashes of every monster or SciFi movie involving mind control went through his mind. What if his cat was infected with some supernatural parasite? What if it was making the little guy sick or worse?

"Do you think we should test him or something?" Dean asked, as his imagination got the better of him.

John rolled his eyes and reached over, grabbing hold of one of the cat's ears.

"Not hot." He started, taking his hand back. "It means he doesn't have a fever."

"That's how you check for a fever?" Dean looked from his dad to the cat. "I thought you … you know .."

"It's the equivalent of checking someone's forehead." John explained, pulling into a diner parking lot. "The cat's fine, now leave him here so we can eat."

Dean looked down at the tiny animal in his arms. There was just something about him that triggered his protective instincts. It was really weird. But, weird or not, there was no way he was leaving the cat alone, at least not after what happened LAST time.

"You coming?" John called from the door to the diner.

"I'll be right there." Dean called back, wrapping the kitten up in his coat.

He REALLY hoped this place was air conditioned. Going from a hot car to a hot coat wasn't going to do anything to help the cat. Lucky for him, the owner appeared to be competing for the coldest business on the block.

"You brought your jacket?" John glanced over his menu with a raised eyebrow.

"Have you felt this place, Dad?" Dean asked, slipping into the booth and picking up his own menu. "It's like a freezer in here."

"Then why don't you put it on?" John challenged.

"No, I'm okay." Dean replied absentmindedly, as he scanned over the specials.

He barely noticed his dad shook his head, right before he caught sight of the giant burger. Beef, ham, egg, bacon, cheese, mayo, the thing was a vegan nightmare. He was SO getting it.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" He answered, not taking his eyes off the mouth watering picture.

"That was the most pathetic lie I have ever heard."

Busted. Dean looked up, trying to gauge his mad his dad was tat he had disobeyed him, but the man's face was completely blank.

"And one more thing," John continued to scan his menu, "if that cat gets us kicked out before I'm done eating, he's gone."

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Dean carried his bundled up coat to a grassy area near the restaurant. He didn't have anything remotely like a litter box, and REALLY hoped that the kitten would go on the lawn. At least he had managed to stay quiet through lunch, maybe the fuzz ball could cooperate here too.

"Okay, little dude, here's the deal." Dean set the bundled down as far from the other people has he could and took out the cat. "You go in the grass, or you stay out of our car."

Giving a small sigh, the kitten trotted over to a bush and climbed under. Remembering the way he freaked out when the hot girl with the dog flipped him over to determine his gender, Dean once again started wondering if this cat was insanely modest or just gay.

"Stop it, Jake!"

Dean turned to see a big guy grabbing a woman by the He looked to be a couple inches shorted then Dean, and maybe a few years older, with a blond ponytail, a purple tank top and a predatory grin on his tanned face. The woman looked to be about the same age with short black hair that was a sharp contrast to her alabaster skin. If she had not been wearing a pink t-shirt, he would have thought she was goth.

"Ah, come on, Maggie, don't be his way." Jake said smoothly.

"Let me go, now!" She growled, trying to twist free.

In one swift move, Jake spun Maggie around and pulled her right up against his chest.

"Why do you always have to play hard to get?" Jake asked the struggling woman.

Dean had definitely seen enough. He headed straight for the couple, preparing himself for a fight.

"Hey, a%$hole!" He called out, causing both of them to freeze. "There is a difference between 'hard to get' and 'get away from me'. Maybe you should go look it up."

"Back off man," Jake sneered, tightening his grip, "this is between me and my girl."

"Well, now it's between you are me." Dean stated.

Jake looked him over, obviously not liking the size difference. Typical bully, they act they they can take on the world … until someone bigger comes along.

"What's wrong?" Dean taunted. "You only able o fight girls?"

Glaring at the teenage hunter, Jake shoved Maggie away and turned to face him.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it ain't healthy to play hero?" He spat.

"Anyone ever tell you that you shouldn't wear women's clothing?"

Let out a growl with no discernible words in it, Jake lunged at Dean. Easily deflecting his opponents first punch, Dean slammed his fist into Jake's stomach. He doubled over, but came up hard, sending his head into the hunter's chin. Slightly dazed, Dean took a hit to the shoulder before managing to slam Jake's head into his knee.

"Vance! Don't!" Maggie shouted.

Dean caught sight of a glint of steel and turned towards his new attacker, just before a hissing ball of gray fur latched itself onto the hand holding the knife. Vance screamed, dropping the blade and franticly trying to dislodge the cat, but the little guy held tight with both his teeth and all four paws.

"AHHH! AHHH! GET IT OFF! AHHH!" Vance yelled, shaking his hand in vain. "GET IT OFF ME! AHHHH!"

Trying not to laugh at a guy, bigger then his dad, being brought down by a two pound ball of fluff, Dean hand to hand it to the little dude for, literally, hanging in there. However, the humor quickly left as passersby, not there for the original incident, stepped in to save Vance from the apparently evil kitten. One grabbed hold of the man's arm while another two tried to knock the cat off and into a potato sack. The second one of the grabbed the cat's head in an attempt to pry him off, Dean was right there.

"Hand's off my cat!" He growled, pulling the wanna-be-Samaritan away.

"He's attacking-" The second do-gooder started, but stopped when the cat let go and leaped into Dean's arms.

"You okay?" Dean asked checking over the cat.

The kitten, however, only seemed interested in checking on Dean. Climbing up on one shoulder, the little guy looked over one side of Dean's face before going behind his head to get a look at the other. He then slipped down his arm to study his hands.

"I'm fine." Dean whispered, scratching the cat's ear. "Thanks, little dude."

"Hey!"

Dean looked up to see Maggie rushing over to them.

"Are you alright?" She asked, eyes wide in fear.

"I'm fine." Dean assured her, with one of his classic smiles. "That guy talks like a bouncer, but hits like a girl scout."

Maggie returned the smile and looked down at the cat, who was busy wiping the blood off his paws with Dean's sleeve.

"Is he alright?" Her voice softened. "I mean, why isn't he licking himself?"

Dean could have sworn he heard the cat scoff at that, but it was too hard to be sure.

"He … doesn't really like to lick." Dan answered.

She gave him a skeptical look, not that he blamed her. If he hadn't seen the fur ball carefully turning the faucet handles, and testing the water each time, he wouldn't have believed it either.

"Really." He insisted. "This morning he gave himself a shower in the sink to wash off dog drool."

"A shower?"

"Yup, little dude turned on the water and everything."

She giggled and reached out to pet the cat, just as a pair of policeman walked up. Oh crap! How could he have missed three cruisers and ambulance showing up in the parking lot?

"Excuse me," One of the two said, eying the cat nervously, "is that animal yours?"

"Yeah, he's mine," Dean answered, "why?"

"We got a call that a rabid cat was attacking someone."

"Dude, seriously?" Dean rolled his eyes. "He's two freaking pounds, how dangerous is that?"

"Has he had his shots?" The other asked.

"I don't know." Dean admitted without thinking.

"Isn't he yours?" The first questioned

"Yeah." Dean said. "I just got him this morning."

"And were did you buy him?" The second asked.

"I rescued him from a parking-lot."

"Are you saying he is a stray, sir?" The first cop glanced at the other.

What? Were they freaking tag teaming him or something? What was with the alternate questioning? Besides that, Dean definitely didn't like their tones and took a step back.

"I'm saying he's mine now."

"Sir," the first guy started, "I'm afraid we are going to have to take the animal."

"No way." Dean stated, placing a protective hand on the kitten's back.

"Sir," the second cop added, "it's for your own safety."

"Safety? The thing is TWO POUNDS."

"But he may be diseased." The first explained. "Did you notice any mood swings or erratic behavior?"

Dean paused, looking down at the bundle of fur in his arms. He had been acting pretty weird, for a cat. Maybe he was sick? It wouldn't hurt to have a doctor check him over.

"Fine." Dean sighed, handing the kitten to the first cop.

He carefully told hold of the cat in a way to keep it from biting or scratching him, and placed him into a pet carrier that an animal control guy had waiting. The little guy mewed softly as they locked the door, as if begging Dean not to let them take him. But the teen hunter just stood there as the animal control officer placed the cat in his cat and drove away.

"So, when can I get him back?" Dean demanded.

The officers exchanged glances.

"Sir," the first one started, sympathetically, "I don't think you fully understand the situation …"

* * *

Looks like trouble for kitty.

As usual, I'll get stared on the next one really soon. (Unless and overwhelming response drives me to post again before bed in about four hours.)


	7. Chapter 7

Alright, this chapter is a bit late, but I had some family stuff to deal with. (And my focus and kinda been on "Firstborn", but I'm sure once I finish that one and post the NEXT story in that series, you will forgive me.)

Anyway, this chapter is a tribute to three of my FF friends, sammygirl1963, cindy123, and MysteryMadchen.

Enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 7**

Sam squirmed slightly, as the veterinary assistant wiped his mouth and paws clean.

"It's weird that he doesn't just lick that off himself," Her matronly co-worker commented, making some notes in a file, "it has to be uncomfortable."

Sam resisted the urge to groan. Of course having blood all over your paws was uncomfortable, but not anywhere near as bad as it would be to actually LICK it off. There was no way Sam was putting that son of a b^%&#'s blood in HIS mouth. Not happening.

"I don't know, Jean." The assistant shrugged, tossing the soiled washcloth in a plastic bin. "Maybe the little guy is just not feeling well."

She stroked her hand over his head, pushing his ears back and tilting his face toward hers.

"Is that it, sweetie?" She cooed. "You got an owie tummy."

"Oh, kill me now." Sam grumbled. "Wait! I didn't mean that!"

The door swung open and Sam tried to make a run for it. He managed to jump from the exam table, spring off a chair, and drop to the floor, but another assistant scooped him up just as he reached the doorway. So close, and yet …

"Nice catch." Jean stated, looking up from her notes.

"Comes with the territory." She held Sam out to the first assistant. "Loose someone, Nicole?"

"Thanks Cindy." Nicole smiled, taking him into her arms. "I don't know how he got away from me."

"Happens to the best of us." Jean said, setting down her pen and moving over to the table.

She smiled down at Sam, resting her elbows on he edge of the table and running her fingers down his spin.

"He is sweet though." Jean half whispered. "real shame."

"What?" Cindy teased. "Shame you can't keep him."

"Are you crazy? Sadie and Harly would eat him alive." Jean gave her friend a sideways glance. "No, I mean it's a shame that they are going to put him down."

"What?" The other two said in unison, looking down at the cat.

Sam's shoulders drooped under Jean's hand. He had a feeling that this was the case.

"It's true," Jean said sadly, as she continued to stroke his back." He attacked Vance Swanson, now they think he is dangerous."

"What?" Cindy exclaimed, scooping Sam up. "THIS little guy took on Vance Swanson?"

"And won." Jean added. "Vance was about to stab his owner and cutie pie here … well he changed his mind."

"For that they are going to kill him?" Nicole shook her head in disgust. "He doesn't deserve the needle, he should get a freaking medal!"

"I know, right?" Jean agreed, petting the top of his head. "Half the grown men in this town are scared too face Vance, but he did it to save his owner. It's incredible really."

Wow, Sam thought to himself. These ladies were about an inch away from hiding him in their purses and smuggling me out of her … let's see if the cute card can budge them an inch.

"Hi," He mewed, climbing so his front paws rested beneath Cindy's shoulder and looked at her with wide, pleading, eyes, "I'm Sam. I'm cute. Please don't kill me."

Just to seal the deal, he batted at her long and shiny earring a couple times, earning a satisfying chorus of "aw" from the woman.

"But what are you going to do?" Nicole asked. "We can NOT just let them kill him."

Sam smiled to himself. Even as a cat, the puppy dog eyes never failed.

"What about the destroyer?" Cindy suggested.

The destroyer? Sam looked at each of the women in turn, trying to verify this plan was a good thing. Mostly, the others looked confused, which didn't tell him anything.

"What about him?" Nicole questioned.

"Well, he's due to be put down within the hour because of his heart condition." Cindy explained. "And, well, they DO kinda look alike."

"Yeah," Jean nodded, "and I might just fill out a report saying he died in his cage. After that it is just a simple matter of swapping their paperwork."

"We might want to give him a quick trim." Nicole added. "This guy here is a short hair."

"Details, details." Cindy wavered her hand dismissively. "Let's just act quickly before someone notices the destroyer is not dead."

Holy crap. He meant to nudge them, not start a secret plot. These ladies were freaking masterminds! Within fifteen minutes he was labeled as a pure breed Persian, recently deceased, and was giving the name Samantaka, or "destroyer of peace". Whoever owed this other cat last was clearly a dog person. The former Samantaka was given a quick trim and send off, with assurances from Jean that the one performing the task would not pay close enough attention to notice that the "mad cat" just doubled in size. All that was left was to get Sam out of the building.

"Where are we going to take him?" Jean asked, as they headed to the back door. "I'd bring him home, but we've already established that two big dogs and one tiny cat are not a good idea."

"I second that." Sam chimed in, remembering the LAST time he ran into a dog.

"Shh, your dead." Nicole whispered to him, before looking at her other friend. "What about you, Cindy? I'm sure Icarus would love a friend. Cockapoos like cats right?"

"Some," Cindy admitted, "but my husband does not. Why don't you take him?"

"I think HE would be a danger to Jensen, Jared, Jeff, and Jim." She sighed. "Cats and mice, you know how it is."

"Well he has to go somewhere." Jean pointed out, opening the large metal door.

All he really wanted was to get back to his family, Sam thought glumly. Once outside, the group was headed towards the employee parking lot, when Sam caught a scent on the wind. It CAN'T be. Whipping his little furry head around he saw the large dark car he would recognize anywhere, as well as the two men climbing out of it. Twisting suddenly, he dropped out of Nicole's grip and dropped to the ground. For once he was glad to be a cat, as he landed on his feet and took off running.

"Dean! Dad!" He shouted as loud as his tiny lungs would allow. "I'm right here! Dean!"

He had to get to them before they got inside … otherwise he might never see them again.

* * *

Gonna have to let you off here for now, but let me know what you think and I will get started on the next chapter.

BTW, how'd you guys like the tribute? See any inside jokes? ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Since it has been SO FREAKING long since I updated, I thought I would treat you guys to two chapters at once. (Granted, they are for different stories, but it's still two chapters.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it ...

**

* * *

Chapter 8**

Dean was halfway to the door when he heard someone shouting.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

Looking over, he couldn't believe his eyes as his cat came bounding towards him.

"Hey, little dude." He said, dropping to one knee in order to catch the little fur ball.

The kitten leaped into his arms and climbed up to circle his neck, purring happily.

"Nice to see you to." Dean chuckled, as the long whiskers tickled his cheek.

Settling on his shoulder, the cat placed his paws on Dean's head, pounding it repeatedly, as he voiced his feline frustration.

"MOW MROW MOW! MEOW MROW MOW MEOW MROW!"

"I get it! I'm sorry!" He protested, pulling the fur ball off his head. "I won't give you up again, I promise."

The little guy huffed and jumped out of his arms to run over to John, peering up at him expectantly.

"What?" John questioned.

"Mrow mow mrow?" The cat looked to the Impala and back to the hunter, his tail flicking impatiently.

"Yeah, we can go." John sighed, in a tone that said 'I can't believe I am talking to a cat'.

He opened the driver's side door, allowing the kitten to scramble in, before motioning to something behind Dean. Turning around, the teenager came face to face with the three women that had been chasing the cat moments before.

"Are you his owner?" One, who's name tag read Jean, asked.

"Yeah, I-"

"It's okay, we believe you." Another, named Cindy, stated. "We'll try and keep the orderlies busy, but you better get out of here before they figure things out."

"Bye Sammy." The one named Nicole called, waving towards the car.

"Sammy?" Dean gave the trio a confused look.

"His full name is Samantaka," Jean explained, "but he seems to like Sammy better."

"He's officially a dead Persian," Nicole added, "so you might want to get out of here before people notice that he's not"

"Take care of him." Cindy smiled, before following the other two back into the building.

Dean stared at the door for half a minute, then turned and went back to the car.

"What was that about?" John questioned as pulled out of the parking lot.

"I have no idea …"

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Pulling up to the bar, Dean grinned at the sight of a group of three smoking hot girls walking inside. Beer, hot girls, and the chance to win some cash. It was hunts like these that made life fun. Steping out of the car, Dean pocketed his keys and closed the door … just as something brushed against his leg.

"What the-" he groaned, looking down, "oh h^&% no."

In on swift motion, he scooped the gray ball of fur into his hand and plopped him down on the hood of the Impala.

"Didn't I tell you t stay at the hotel with Dad?"

The kitten let out a huff and gave him an annoyed glare.

"Don't look at me like that, this is my gig and you know it." He snapped, not caring at the moment that he was having a one sided argument with a cat. "Besides, your too young to go in there."

"Mrow mow meow MOW." The little guy countered.

"I'm old enough!"Dean protested, somehow knowing that the cat knew he was only eighteen. "And at least I can pass for twenty-one. YOU can't even pass for two."

The little dude looked downcast for a second, before turning a pleading gaze Dean's way.

"Don't even start that with me." Dean ordered, averting his eyes. "I told you, you are not-"

"Oh, what a CUTE kitty!"

Startled slightly, Dean turned to see a couple of college age girls headed his way.

"Isn't he the most precious thing." One of the gushed, reaching out to stroke his head. "Hey sweetie."

Giving Dean a quick glance, the kitten flopped onto his back and batted at the girls necklace.

"Aw, he is so cute." The other cooed.

So THAT was how he got the vets to spring him. Little dude, you are one sly dog … for a cat anyway.

"Is he yours?" The first girl asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Uh … yes … yes he is."

As is on cue, the kitten jumped to his feet and climbed onto Dean's shoulder, wrapping himself around his neck.

"Oh, he is just too sweet." The first one murmured, stepping right up to Dean so she could better reach the cat. "You know, not many guys would carry around a kitten. You must be pretty sweet yourself."

The little guy purred in agreement, rubbing the side of his head against Dean's cheek, which caused the girls to melt before his eyes.

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "I don't go anywhere without my boy here."

"Well, we gotta meet up with some friends," The second girl said, biting her lower lip. " Will we see you two inside?"

"You know it." Dean answered, flashing the two a grin.

The girls giggled and hurried inside. Looks like this was going to be a good night, whether he found something on the case or not. He looked down when the cat jumped to the hood of the cat, watching him expectantly.

"Fine." Dean relented. "But keep out of sight. If I get kicked out for a health code violation your gone."

* * *

Well? What do you think?

I got to go to bed now. (I have math in a little over nine hours.) But I will get started on the next one as soon as I can. :)


	9. Chapter 9

First of all, I just want you all to know I did NOT stop writing Supernatural stories ... I just started writing them on paper. (Which, by the way, is a pain to transfer sometimes.)

I am sorry for the delay. I had a REALLY rough week last week ... and kinda the week before ... have you ever gone to bed on Friday night and suddenly realized you had a 15 page paper due Monday afternoon?(It's not fun)

Anyway, the important part is I am better now and can finally start taking my stories off paper on onto the computer.

Here is the first one, enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 9**

It took less than five minutes after entering the bar for Sam to seriously reconsider his plan to come along as back up. As soon as Dean caught sight of the pool table, he had dropped the little guy off with a group of girls and grabbed a cue. So, Sam found himself dodging half a dozen hands at a time just to keep his brother in sight. Being a cat sucked.

"Oh, isn't that CUTE!" One of the girls cooed. "he's watching you play."

"I've never seen a cat this loyal before." Another added. "What's your secret?"

Dean sunk a ball and gave the girls one of his classic smiles.

"If you have time later, maybe I can tell you over a drink?"

The girls giggled while Sam rolled his eyes, trying to keep the nearly groping hands at bay. Unlike him, Dean was loving the attention their admirers were all to willing to bestow on them. He had turned back to the game, only to pull off a trick shot and sink two balls at once. Freaking show off.

"Lucky shot." His opponent insisted.

"No luck needed." Dean grinned. "That was pure skill."

He emphasized his statement with a final shot, knocking the eight-ball in the corner pocket, and ending the game.

"Skill my eye." An older man grumbled. "No way you could do that again."

"Dude, I could do that every day of the week with a matinee on Sunday."

"Why don't you put your money where your big mouth is."

"You want to challenge me?" Dean questioned, his eyes eager.

Sam gave the man a scrutinizing look. Based on appearance, along with the large wad of cash he was carrying, the teen's best guess was that this guy was a trucker. Though not usually as dangerous as the biker gangs that frequent these kinds of bars, that fact that he had at least four inches and twenty pounds on the older teen still made him a threat. However, being the cocky big brother that he was, Dean didn't seem to notice.

"Tell you what," he said, grabbing the triangle frame, "double or nothing. You can even break."

The man smiled at his chance to show up the teen, taking a ball on his first shot. He got another on his second, but missed the third. Dean stepped up and sunk two on his first shot. The girls were clearly impressed and Sam couldn't blame them. He had never been able to see his big brother in action before, but it was suddenly clear how he always came how with enough money to feed them for a week. By Dean's third shot all the girls in the immediate area were cheering him on … much to the annoyance of all the guys in the immediate area. As he lined up for his fourth shot one of the said guys moved behind him, clearly intent on making the hunter miss.

"Hey!" Sam yelled, glaring at the man.

Though he knew it only came out as a meow, the outburst still had the desired effect. Dean stopped and followed Sam's line of sight over his shoulder.

"You aren't planning on cheating are you?" He asked in a surprisingly non-accusing tone.

"Of course not." The guy responded with a slight sneer.

"You know," another guy started, "you're not supposed to have animals in here."

"He's a service animal." Dean lied smoothly, sinking another ball.

"Oh, like those dogs that detect seizures?" The girl currently stroking Sam's head questioned.

"Exactly." Dean grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing that the likelihood that his brother even knew animals could detect seizures was about the same as him remembering the numerical value of pi. He sighed and moved to the edge of the table where he could get a better view of the game, but something there made his fur stand on end. He looked around, but the only change in his new blue and green world was the arrival of a bunch of guys who, based on appearance alone, looked harmless … off of the football field anyway. Another group left and a small breeze passed through the bar, and Sam knew what was wrong. A smell. It was like nothing he ever encountered before and it set his feline heart racing. Despite his initial instinct to hide in the safety of Dean's shirt, something told him that what he was smelling the killer, whatever it was, and he had to stop it before it hurt someone else. So he gathered up his courage and hopped off the table to find the source.

"Hey, where are you going/" One of the girls called after him.

Ignoring her, Sam weaved his way between the bar patrons, trying his best not to get stepped on. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. It turned out to be a man, or at least looked like one. He was just another unassuming guy having a quiet drink and watching the pool game … watching Dean! With the fur on his neck spiking, Sam faced the killer.

"Back off!" He hissed.

The man sneered at Sam before kicking him across the floor and straight into an unforgiving table leg. Dazed and bruised, the little guy pulled himself to his feet. The man was once again watching Dean, a wicked smile on his face. Panic started to build as Sam realized there was no way he could stop him in his current position. His brother would become the next victim and there was nothing he could do about it.

"No." He told himself. "Cat or not, there is a way I can stop this."

There had to be.

* * *

Okay, that all for now.

I got to go to class now, but I only have one today, so I will transfer the other two chapters when I get home.

Again, really sorry for the wait.


	10. Chapter 10

Wow, this chapter was a long time coming.

So sorry for the wait on it. I think the last time I updated was just people my world turned upside-down. (Literally, things got pretty bad for a while there.) Anyway, my new years resolution was to finish all my active stories and that is what I am going to do.

A lot of people have been showing interest in this story, so I thought it was only right to start here.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Dean lined up his next shot, the sweet taste of victory just a few moments away. All he had to do was sink this and then the only thing left was would be the eight ball.

"MROW!"

A ball of fur suddenly landed on his shoulder, sending the cue ball wide and knocking the eight-ball neatly in the corner pocket, taking the two hundred and seventy-six dollar pot with it. He was going to KILL that cat.

"Ha ha," his opponent laughed, scooping up the pile of money. "Guess fluffy wasn't much of a help after all."

At the moment, Dean couldn't agree more. Grabbing the annoying animal by the scruff of the neck, he swung it around so he could look it in the eye.

"What the h^%$ was THAT?"

The question launched an animated tale that included a lot of rapid meowing as the cat jabbed a furring paw at something across the room. While he was deciding if he should try and decipher the animal's explanation or just throw it across the room and demand a rematch, Dean noticed something that derailed his train of thought.

"Are you bleeding?"

Pausing mid meow, the little guy raised a paw to the small trickle of blood that was coming out of his nose and pulling it back for a better look. Letting out a small huff, that sounded weirdly like a 'huh', he shook his furry head and continued with his ranting. Dean, however, could care less what was across the room … unless it was the thing that hurt his cat.

"Did someone hit you?"

Almost growling in frustration, the kitten attempted to squirm out of his grasp. After nearly dropping him, twice, Dean put the cat into his pocket and headed outside. He wasn't ready to leave, not until he taught whatever creep hurt his cat why you should be kind to animals, but people were starting to stare. Upon reaching the Impala, he dropped the little guy on the hood.

"Now … what happened?"

He wasn't sure what kind of answer he was expecting to understand, but the cat seemed to have a way to make his point. And make it he did. Jumping to the ground, the two pound kitten bit down on the leg of Dean's jeans and attempted to pull him towards … well he wasn't really sure what his destination was since the six foot hunter could barely feel him tugging away. Base on the direction, however, it wasn't back inside.

"Okay," Dean caved. "I'll bite."

Careful not to step on the fur ball, he allowed himself to be led … to the driver's side door of the Impala. Placing his front paws on the car, the cat looked up at him with the same pleading look that instantly made him think of his brother.

"You wanna go back to the hotel?"

The kitten nodded, watching him with those big, for lack of a better description, puppy dog eyes and Dean just couldn't say no. With sigh of exasperation, and a few choice words at himself for being manipulated by a cat, he let the little guy in the car and climbed behind the wheel. Fluffy stayed on lookout until they were halfway to the hotel, and then he curled up next to Dean's leg for the rest or the ride.

"You okay, little dude?"

The cat just curled up tighter, making Dean wonder if he was hurt worse then he had thought. He seemed okay. Maybe was sulking … but what the h^&$ did he have to sulk about? He'd worry about that later. Right now he had to drop off the fuzz ball and try to get back to the bar.

"Come on, Nermal," he said, scooping up the cat in one hand.

As he pulled out his key, he took another look at the kitten's damaged nose. The bleeding had stopped, but he was still worried about any more serious injuries. For all he knew, the little guy's brains might have been jumbled in the hit. Yet another reason to go back to the bar, find the a#^hole that hurt his cat.

"Hey Dad," he called, closing the door behind him. "What do you know about feline first aid?"

"Nothing," John grunted without looking up from his journal. "Why?"

"Someone hit my cat in the face."

"That's what happens when you bring an animal to a bar," his dad stated, glancing up for a two second assessment before returning to his notes. "He's fine. What did you find out?"

Clearly, John didn't believe the injury was that severe. But still, there was something about this cat … something he was missing … but what? Oh well, there would be time to figure that out after the hunt. Heading into the bathroom, Dean got a damp cloth to wash the fur ball's face while he gave his report.

"Not much. Typical crowd, but not many people who knew the vics. There was a pretty decent shark there though. I would have got us a months worth of food money if Fluffy here hadn't freaked out on me."

"Again, that's what happens when you take an animal to a bar. Next time, leave the dumb thing in the car."

As if realizing it was just insulted, the cat's ears went back and he began to meow angrily at John. Hopping out of Dean's arms, he planted himself on the table in front of John and continued it's rant, jabbing his paw from one hunter to the other. Though the teen was amused at the feline tantrum, his father seemed to ignore every meow … which only served to make the little guy louder. Wow, could this cat be more like Sam?

"Well," Dean clapped his hands together. "I see that your busy, so I'm just going to head back out."

"Where are you going?" John asked, showing his first real interest in the entire conversation.

The cat had fallen silent as well, watching the younger hunter's every more. It was kinda creepy, but still the most normal animal behavior Dean had seen all day. So, he just shrugged it off and made sure the keys were still in his pocket.

"I'm going back to the bar. If the shark is there I might be able to get a re-match."

He hadn't even finished his explanation before the cat freaked out. Practically flying across the room, the little guy positioned himself between Dean the the door, shaking his head and meowing frantically. What now? Was he afraid of getting hurt again?

"Relax, dude," he started, scooping up the kitten and dropping him on his bed. "You don't have to come this time."

Either that wasn't the problem or Nermal had lost his freakish ability to understand English, because the second his paws hit the comforter the little guy was back at the door. Crap, he didn't have time for this. It was getting late and if he wanted any hope of scoring some cash he had to leave soon. Maybe he could just shut the cat in the bathroom ...

* * *

So, Sam got Dean out of the bar, but will it be enough to save him?

Let me know what you think. (Feedback, as always, is more than welcome.) Meanwhile, I'll get started on the next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

I'm so glad that you all seemed to like the last part. And just to prove to you that I am serious about finishing this story, I am giving you the fastest update I can ... while going to school full time and working part time.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 11**

So far so good, Sam told himself, digging his claws deeper into the Impala's carpet. He had manged to get out of the room without being seen, and even into the car. Now all he had to do was survive his father's driving long enough to save Dean from the thing posing as a man. Something told the young hunter that the hardest part was still to come.

"I don't see why you have to come with me," Dean complained from directly above Sam. "I already lost a pool game because of a cat, it's not going to help any to have my dad bring me back."

"Quite whining," John replied.

Typical Dad, Sam thought bitterly. Did he ever explain himself to anyone? Jarred by another pot hole, the teens train of though moved off his father's social skills on onto the town's ability to maintain a road. He was going to have to remind his family to check their shocks … as soon as he was capable of speech anyway. But even that was pushed to the back of his mind as he heard the sound of a commotion coming from somewhere nearby. His eyes couldn't make out the exact colors, but the way the lights were pulsing against the back seat made him think one thing; cops.

"Looks like it struck again," John commented, pulling to a stop.

Climbing up for a better look, Sam spotted two police cruisers and a coroners van outside the bar that he and Dean had been less then an hour before. The murder must have happened right after they left, which only emphasized how close his brother had come to being the victim. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. As glad as he was that he had been able to get Dean out of there in time, he still regretted not being able to stop the killer.

"So, how do you want to do this?" Dean asked.

"Too many people might recognize you," John replied, grabbing a badge out of the glove box. "Hang back and follow my lead."

As if he would do anything different, Sam thought to himself as he watched the men from the coroner's office unload their gurney. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the car door open. Quickly, he jumped down and barely managed to slip out without his tail getting crimped. Keeping as close to Dean as he could, without getting stepped on, Sam made his way across the parking lot. The smells from before were all present, such as beer and vomit, but the stench of death and blood now added to the aroma almost making the young teen sick. But while his dad spun some story about being an FBI agent out with his son who stopped to help, another sent wafted across the asphalt. Sam's fur stood on end as he instantly recognized the smell. The killer was here.

"Dean," he mewed, tugging on the leg of his brother's jeans. "Hey, Dean!"

"And how did you get here?" Dean asked, glancing down.

"Doesn't matter," Sam pointed a paw in the direction of the scent. "Get Dad. Its over there."

"Whatever," he shrugged, turning his gaze back to the crime scene. "Try not to get stepped on."

Not for the first time, Sam cursed his feline body. There was no way he could let his family know that a monster was less then a block away. If he couldn't make his point then the killer might kill again … and next time it might be Dean they find dead in the alley. With that thought in mind, Sam raced after the scent. He had to do something, he didn't know what he could do, but he had to try.

"Where are you," he murmured, scanning the crowd on onlookers.

If it hadn't been for the scent, he never would have found him. The man he saw in the bar was a short, unassuming, pencil pusher type. Now he was a tall muscle man with tattoos and a shaved head. His Dad's theory was wrong. It wasn't astro projection, they were hunting a shape-shifter. But how could he let them know that when he couldn't even talk? There was only one thing he could do; he would have to show them. Jumping up, he climbed the shifter's leg as fast as he could. The monster looked down at him, his eyes flashing a pale blue. A second later a large hand grabbed his head and yanked him off the creature's jeans. Using this to his advantage, Sam latched onto the hand, just as he had Dean's attacker, only this time he was shook off in a matter of seconds and slammed into the payment. At least he had managed to take a good chunk of skin with him. Dragging his only evidence, Sam limped back over to his brother and prayed that they would understand.

"Now that it's struck here, it will most likely move on," John was telling Dean in a low whisper. "We just have to figure out where."

"Yeah," the younger hunter nodded in agreement, before frowning at Sam. "Hey. Little dude, what happened to you?"

Sam dropped the skin at their feet, hoping they might take the hint. Dean reached down and tenderly picked him up, completely ignoring the clue that may solve their entire case. However, John retrieved the flap of skin, looked it over, and stuck it in his pocket. Without another word, he head back to the car with Dean only a few steps behind him. This was unbelievable!

"Really?" Sam shouted. "I hand you the key to your hunt on a silver platter and you IGNORE IT! REALLY? Holy crap Dad! What do I have to do to make you listen!"

He cut off his rant just in time to realize that he was wrong. His father knew how to listen, and had received the clue loud and clear. The man just didn't know how to communicate the way most people did. Normal people would use there words to share what they were thinking, but not John Winchester. He spoke with weapons.

"Here," he grunted, handing his eldest a small crossbow. "Use the silver bolts."

"Silver?" Dean echoed, setting Sam down on the edge of the trunk. "You mean it's a shape-shifter of some kind?"

"If that skin your cat found is anything to go by, then yes," John replied, checking his knife.

Once armed, he picked up Sam by the scruff of his neck and shoved him into his Dean's arms, before slamming the trunk shut. John then motioned for him to follow, but Dean took a detour to the passenger door of the Impala.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just gonna put the cat in the car."

"No," John shook his head. "Fluffy there is the only way we had to identify the shifter. He's coming with us."

"But Dad, he might get hurt."

"It's a cat, Dean."

"I know, but-"

"It's fine," John interrupted. "Now, lets go."

Still Dean didn't move and Sam prayed that for once in his life his dad might cave. He had already faced this thing twice and it was nothing short of a miracle that he survived this long. Nine lives or not, a full fledged hunt would be his death sentence.

"He could get killed, Dad," Dean tried again.

But John just looked at his son, his eyes like stone as he answered his son's plea with a voice as cold as ice.

"It's just a cat."

* * *

Sorry to leave you hanging here, but I am in school all day tomorrow (starting in seven and a half hours) and won't be able to update again until Thursday or Friday. (Didn't think you wanted to wait that long.)

Anyway, let me know what you think and I will try to type up the next part between classes. (And if people want, I can make it double length. Just ask and you shall receive.)


	12. Chapter 12

Alrighty people, you have waited a long time for this, so I hope it does not disappoint.

Please note that much of this was written late and night while I was sick with a cold. (So please be kind with the errors.)

As requested, a TRIPLE length chapter. :)

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Dean followed John away from the crime scene, a bad feeling growing it the pit of his stomach. He couldn't explain it, not even to himself, but he did NOT want the cat on the hunt. Granted, his dad had a point that it was the easiest way to identify the shifter. Still, it was a freaking kitten! That was about as innocent as it gets. Who brought a KITTEN on a MONSTER hunt? I mean, really? This was wrong on so many levels. But even that had nothing to do with what Dean was feeling. This was something else; he just didn't know what.

"The cat would be a lot more effective if he could smell the shifter and not your arm pit."

"Hey," Dean protested. "I took a shower this morning."

"Not the point," John stated. "Put the thing down."

Dean instinctively raised his hand to his coat, right over the inside pocket the fur ball was currently curled up in. He knew there was no point in arguing, he couldn't help it.

"I think he's fine. Cats are awesome like that."

"Now Dean."

With a sigh, he pulled the cat out of his coat. The little guy mewed in protest, clinging to the pocket's lining. Careful not to damage either, Dean separated the two and placed the cat in front of him. Crap, why was this so d&*$ hard?

"Sorry little dude, but like I said before, Dad's the boss."

The kitten sighed in what seemed like resignation, and nodded his head as if he understood. This was really starting to get creepy. Luckily, the weirdness quickly faded as the fuzz ball stuck his nose in the air and started to hunt. Then again, it was still kinda weird to see Nermal suddenly turn into Rin Tin Tin. Oh well, normal was overrated anyway.

"Come on, Lassie," Dean encouraged. "Find the shape-shifting son of a b^&$%."

Stopping only long enough to look annoyed, fluffy continued his hunt. Weaving his way through the crowed, the cat quickened his pace with every step. He must have caught the scent. Now if only Dean could keep up with him …

"Watch it!" Some drunk protested as the teen pushed past him.

Dean shot him a quick glare, but didn't take the time to stop and see if the guy backed down. If wasn't as if the guy could follow him at this speed anyway. D%$&, cats were fast! He could barely keep the little guy in sight. Just as he was afraid he was going to loose sight of his feline bloodhound, the kitten skidded to a halt and back pedaled. Taking his eyes off the cat for the first time, he noticed the man who had stopped the fur ball in his tracks. He was as tall as John and packed with muscle, not that that meant anything since even a tiny shifter was strong enough to take on a UFC champion. His head was shaved, his skin was covered in elaborate tattoos, and his eyes were locked on the cat. S#^%! Quickening his own pace, he managed to reach the kitten before the creature did. Taking a protective stance over the little guy, Dean reached under his coat for his crossbow. He knew he couldn't pull it out in the middle of the crowd, but it might make the b&s^a$d think twice before touching his cat. Meeting the hunter's gaze, the shifter smiled and waved, before blending back into the crowd. And just like that, the cat was off. S*%$!

"We're SO getting you a leash," Dean muttered to himself as he followed the animal out of the crowd.

The kitten raced over to the mouth of an alley, stopping only long enough to make sure he was still being followed before going in. It was only a moment that he was out of sight, a second in time that the tiny animal was alone with a cold blooded killer. One second too long. As Dean approached the ally he heard the cat hiss followed by a small crash, glass shattering along with the clang of stone and metal. Then silence. A sense of dread came over him and he cursed under his breath. He knew it was a mistake to bring the cat! And now … Dean shook the dark thought from his mind and pulled his weapon. This thing was gonna die tonight. He ran around the corner, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a .45 caliber handgun.

"I must say I'm impressed, hunter," the shifter smirked. "You got closer than most."

He adjusted his stance so the barrel was aimed right at Dean's heart. The crossbow was still in his hand, and he might be able to get in a shot, but there was no way his arrow would beat the creature's gun. There was no sign of his dad, and he had no idea if the cat was even alive. The only thing he knew for sure was that If something didn't change soon, he was going to die.

* * *

*** * * This is where I would have left you had this been a normal length chapter. But since you asked, I kept writing. * * ***

* * *

Keeping his eyes locked on the gun, Dean's mind raced to figured out a way out of this that didn't involve his dad building a pyre. Interestingly enough, the last time he was in this kind of situation, the cat had been the one to save him. Now the roles were reversed and he was doing a pretty lousy job of returning the favor, if it wasn't too late already. A scrapping sound caught his attention, but Dean didn't dare look. If this was his time, he was gonna face it head on. The shifter, however, seemed less worried about the hunter he was keeping at bay and glanced over to see what was causing the noise. To his surprise, the creature shook his head in disbelief.

"When will that d%^$ thing die?" he muttered.

Suppressing the urge to let out a sigh of relief, Dean stared still as the sounds stopped and something small pressed against his ankle. Looks like Fluffy was still in the game after all.

"Oh, and before I kill you, I have to know. What's with the ferby?" the shifter demanded. "I mean, if you are going to use a familiar at all, pick a Great Dane or a Doberman. H^*$, a POODLE would be more effective then Mittens over there."

Dean tensed at his words, and he couldn't help but notice the kitten did too. A familiar? Was that what he had let into their house? A witch's freaking lackey? Glancing down, he sidestepped away from the little guy, a look of fear and betrayal on his furry face. The shifter seemed to pick up on his surprise and let out a loud laugh.

"Seriously? You didn't know? I am no longer impressed. How STUPID can you be? You think a REAL cat would have tracked ME?"

Still, literally, under the gun, Dean could only glare at the monster while his brain tried to wrap his head around this new info. Was this why the cat seemed to have power over him? He had to admit that it made sense. Nermal, however, didn't seem to agree and started protesting loudly. Risking a second glance down he saw the cat had moved about a foot in front of him, facing off against the shifter.

"And you," the thing said, sneering at the animal. "I knew I should have snapped your furry neck the second I saw you in the bar, a mistake I will remedy just as soon as I take care of your master."

This comment seemed to enrage the fuzz ball. His fur stood on end as he hissed and growled. Using jerky movements, the cat paced back a forth between of Dean and the shifter. Though the hunter wasn't quite sure what to make of this, the monster seemed to find it amusing.

"Isn't that cute," he smiled, keeping the gun steady on Dean. "You trying to make me shoot you first. Hate to tell you this, but you're not that scary."'

Surprisingly the cat stopped and sat down, calm as can be. What the h^$#? Dean glanced up to see the shifter watching the little guy, apparently just as confused as he was. Maybe he could use this distraction to his advantage. Slowly, he raised the crossbow into firing position-

"One more move hunter, and you're dead where you stand," the creature warned, suddenly a lot less relaxed then he had been before.

Dean cursed himself for not being faster. Even if he fired now, the angle was still not good enough to hit the heart. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a nervous flick of a tail and heard a low growl, but the shifter wasn't going for it this time.

"That your plan?" he sneered. "Your familiar plays the freak card long enough for you to get a shot in? Well the game's over, and you just lost."

A second later a hand wrapped around the shifter's head while another dragged a glint of sharp silver across his throat. In a splash of blood it was over and the creature's body crumpled to the ground.

"Dad?"

"I hate monologuing," John muttered, wiping his knife on this sleeve. "Next time, just take cover and shoot the b&s$a*d."

Dean nodding and looked around for the cat. He was headed for him with a slight limp, traces of blood marring his light gray fur and trickling from his nose, but otherwise he looked fine … for a familiar. John reached down and grabbed the thing by the scruff of the neck, causing it to let out a small squeak.

"It's a familiar," Dean informed him, his own voice sounding hollow in his ears.

How could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen the power this thing had over him? But when he looked in his father's eyes he saw the same questions. They had both been duped.

"I heard," John answered gruffly, looking through the junk in the ally.

He found a coffee can and dumped the animal inside, punching holes in the lid and tucking it under his arm. Ignoring the cat like cries, Dean followed his dad back to where they had left the car. They dropped their weapons off at the trunk, duct taped around the lid of the coffee can to make sure the thing couldn't get out, and headed back down the road.

"What are we gonna do it?" Dean asked, eying the makeshift pet carrier on the back seat.

"Where there is a familiar, there is a witch," John stated. "We use that one to find the other. Then we take them both out."

* * *

*** * * And this is where I would have stopped had this been double length. Aren't you glad people asked for more? * * ***

* * *

Kicking the door closed behind him, Dean carried the groceries over to the kitchenette and dug out a couple of prepackaged sandwiches. He tossed one to his dad at the table, getting a only grunt in thanks, and set the other on the counter before reaching in to unload the rest of his purchases. After the usual bread, lucky charms, milk, and beer; he set a couple cans on the counter and started to hunt for the can opener.

"Hey Dad, where is the cat?"

"Familiar, Dean," John reminded him. "And he is not going to eat that."

"But it's tuna flavored," Dean argued, retrieving the coffee can from the table and prying off the tape. "Besides, we can't let him starve."

Pulling off the lid, he found the little guy curled up at the bottom, apparently sulking. The thing had been in there for going on twelve hours, so he had to be hungry. But just like John predicted, he admittedly refused the cat food to the point of flipping the can over on Dean's hand. On second thought, maybe they COULD let him starve.

"Why don't you try REAL tuna," John suggested, flipping the page on his newspaper.

Dean rinsed the gunk off his hand and looked through the cupboards. No tuna. Looks like he was going to go back to the store. Or, he could try plan B.

"Here, squirt," he said, dropping the ham from half his sandwich into the coffee can. "Enjoy."

He seemed to like this better, and the rest of lunch passed in silence … until the fur ball was done eating anyway. The sound of a heavy book hitting metal, coupled by the muffled protests of a very irritated feline, caught Dean's attention.

"We can't keep him in there forever," the teen commented, motioning towards their new makeshift lid. "He might try to claw his way through that anyway."

"You have a better idea?"

As a matter of fact, he did. Grinning, Dean jumped to his feet and rummaged through the grocery bag. He had to dig to the bottom, but finally found what he was looking for.

"It's a choker chain," he explained, removing the book and slipping the meal loop around the familair's neck. "All the convenience of a leash, none of the hassle of a collar."

"Just make sure he doesn't slip out of it," John warned, going back to his research. "Remember, it may look like a cat, but it thinks like a human."

"I know," Dean replied. "I'm just going to talk him out back for a potty break to test it out."

Leading the animal around to the back of a hotel, the teen was thankful for the thing's human mindset, since it took all of five seconds to pick a spot under a bush and only a couple minutes to do his business. Once it was done, they headed back inside, but as soon as the door closed behind him, something shoved Dean into the wall. Dropping the leash, Dean instinctively pushed back, before he realized who he was fighting.

"Dad?"

"Do you know how badly you screwed up?" John seethed, his eyes flashing with anger.

Dean opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. What could he have done that would piss his dad off so badly? He'd only been outside a couple of minutes.

"I … uh … huh?"

"What was the last order I gave you before Sam left?"

At least he had a time frame now, but he was still drawing a blank. Clean the rifles, did that. Gas up the Impala, did that. Drop Sam off, did that. Don't stay out too late … crap.

"You're mad because I stayed out until 2am?"

His guess just seemed to anger his dad even more, his hands flexing as it they longed to wrap around the startled teens throat. But what did he DO? Clearly it had nothing to do with curfew, since he didn't really have one, and it probably wasn't about Audrey Clark. What else was there?

"Think," John almost growled. "What is the most import thing I told you to do?"

Dean could feel himself pale at the thought. He knew what this was about. It was about his job, to look after Sammy. And if he screwed that up …

"Did something happen to Sam?"

John turned away a grabbed a t-shirt off the table before shoving in in Dean's face. He took the shirt and looked over it, wondering what a camp shirt had to do with his little brother.

"One of Sam's friends had to leave camp early and stopped by to give that to him, since he MISSED it. I thought I told you to take him."

"I did," Dean insisted, wracking his brain to figure out how this could happen. "I drove him straight to the school."

"Did you see him get on the bus?"

Dean swallowed hard. He didn't even see him get into the building. He had just left him there, standing on the steps, alone. Now his brother was gone, missing for almost 48 hours, because of a girl. Anything could have happened to him. He could be- Dean didn't let himself finish that thought, he couldn't. Instead he faced his father, who was still looking at him, demanding an answer.

"No."

"Why not?"

Once again he knew John wanted an answer, and once again he dreaded to give it. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to his little brother, especially over something as stupid and trivial as a date. But admitting what he had done to his dad was almost as bad.

"Well?" John demanded. "What was so important that you have to leave your brother unprotected?"

Dean winced at the wording, feeling the deep sting of guilt knowing that it was true. He dropped his eyes to the ground, unable to see the disappointment that he knew was coming, and answered in a quiet voice.

"I had a date."

He jumped when John's fist slammed trough the wall next to his head, missing him only by an inch. He barely heard the familiar fussing, or pay much attention when John shut him back up in the coffee can. No, there was only on thing on his mind. Sammy. His brother was missing, possibly taken. Any number of thing might have gotten hold of him. Witches, demons, pedophiles; the list was endless and their leads, nonexistent. How were they going to find him?

"Stay here," John ordered pulling on his coat.

"But Dad, I can help-"

"You've done enough," he snapped. "I'll deal with you later, after I find Sam."

He slipped out the door without another word and Dean just stood there listening to the Impala's engine as it sped away. Left alone, Dean allowed his emotions to overtake him and he punched a hole in the wall deeper than his dad's. Sammy was gone. His brother was gone for almost two days and he didn't even know. Oh God, please let him be okay. He had to find him, had to find whatever b^s&a$d took him. He was supposed to protect him, but lately all he's been worried about was that stupid-

"You," Dean whispered harshly, grabbing his hunting knife and ripping the lid off the coffee can. "This all started when you showed up."

He yanked the animal out by the scruff of his neck and leveled the point of his knife at the center of his furry chest. The little guy mewed in fear, his eyes pleading with Dean to stop, but when Sammy is missing all compassion goes out the window. He just stared at the cat, his voice just as deadly as his father's had been only a moment before.

"I know you can understand me," he hissed. "And you better help me find my brother, or else I will gut you like a fish."

* * *

What do you think? Any of you out there sharpening pitch forks?

As you know, I am a firm believer in the phrase "ask and you shall receive", so if you ask I will try to have the next part up by (or during) the weekend.


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, so this one is not double, triple, or quadruple length. However it does meet my goal of having it up by the weekend, so I hope you can forgive me.

I didn't get as much help and feedback with this chapter as I usually do, so I hope you guys can at least give me the latter.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Sam gulped, trying to remain as still as possible. This was fairly easy with a blade less then an inch away from your heart. Suddenly he had a lot of empathy for the things they hunted, facing down John and Dean Winchester was not for the faint of heart. His family was downright SCARY! Pushing those thoughts aside, the young teen focused on the problem at hand; how to get his brother to understand who he was without becoming a kitty-kabob.

"So," Dean said, his voice deadly calm. "Are you going to help me?"

Knowing that only one answer would keep him from getting impaled, Sam nodded his head and prayed that would be enough. On the bright side, it Dean cause Dean to relax slightly. On the down side, the knife stayed right where it was.

"Do you know what took my brother?"

"Yes," Sam mewed, once again nodding his head but keeping the rest of his body still.

"Do you know where he is?"

There was a hint of desperation in his voice, something he was unaccustomed to hearing in Dean's voice. It was, to say the least, unsettling. He wished he could just tell him who he was and that he was okay … well … relatively okay. But how? In the last 36 hours he had tried everything he could think of, but with his family so wrapped up with the hunt they never took notice. Maybe now it would be different, maybe now he could get through.

"Yes," Sam nodded, slowly pointing to the map on the table.

Dean followed his line of sight and seemed to understand. Pulling the knife back, he set Sam down next to the map. Padding across the table, Sam scanned the different roads until he found the location of their hotel, barely hearing Dean call their Dad with the promise of a lead. With one claw he scratched an 'X' over the spot and yelped as Dean shoved him to the floor in his eagerness to see what he had marked.

"No, you stupid cat!" the older brother growled, slamming the map back onto the table. "I said where SAM is, not where WE are."

"That's what I gave you," Sam shot back, climbing onto a chair and tapping a paw to his chest. "I am Sam. I am right here."

"Alright, lets try this again," Dean said, with obviously forced calm. "You know where my brother is, right?"

"Yes," Sam replied with a firm nod.

"Okay, where?"

Sam once again tapped his chest, but once again Dean didn't get it. Could this situation be more frustrating? Not only did Sam have to watch his brother panic over his disappearance, but the thick headed teen was so worried about him that he wasn't listening to him. When he got back to normal, Sam was going to kill Ethan.

"Come on," Dean urged. "Show me where Sammy is. Please."

Wishing he could, but knowing it would be useless, Sam just sat down and looked at the map. They needed another plan, but what?

"This isn't working," Dean sighed, rubbing his face. "Maybe you just don't understand."

"Yes I do," Sam huffed.

But once again it appeared his brother saw him as nothing more then a stupid cat. Dean started flipping through their dad's journal and held a page up to the cat. The section was devoted to kappas, water demons know to kidnap children.

"Did the thing that took Sam look like this?"

"Dean," Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "We aren't even near a river."

"Okay," Dean flipped through to the next sketch in the journal. "Did it look like this?"

"A sack man?" Sam gave his brother a skeptical look. "Really?"

Dean turned back to the book and continued to search the pages, not that he was going to find anything. Sam doubted that John had a picture of stupid teenagers who played with magic … but he did have other pictures. Sam pounced on the Journal, ignoring Dean's protests, and flipped back to the beginning. Pulling out the most recent picture they had, he placed his paw on his image.

"Me," he meowed, pulling his paw up to his chest. "Me."

"Yeah, that's Sam. Do you know where he is?"

"Right here. I'M Sam. ME."

Just as it looked like Dean was going to start throwing punches, John burst into the hotel room. He barely closed the door behind him before he was at the table looking over the map. Terrific, Sam thought bitterly. He could never get his dad to listen when he was human. No way he was going to pay much attention to a cat, especially one he thought was a familiar.

"You're saying Sam is here?"

Holy- He was listening? And not just listening … he was getting it? Daring to hope, Sam nodded, tapping the picture once again with his paw and touching his chest. John's eyes darted from the cat to the map to the picture and back again, the wheels almost visibly turning as he connected the dots.

"Dean, what time did you drop Sam off?"

"What? Uh … I don't know … around sunset."

"And when did the cat show up?"

"I got back at two, but didn't see the cat until around six. Why?"

John didn't answer as he studied the mark on the map once again. Please God, let him be getting it, Sam begged silently. He started to trace a line going from the hotel and circling the area. What was he doing.

"Where did you get turned into a cat?"

Not seeing the relevance, but not wanting to detail his dad's train of thought, just in case it was headed in the right direction, Sam looked down at map. Unfortunately, the map only covered the town and the woods were outside of the city limits. He'd either need a bigger map or … that! Jumping down to the floor, Sam ran over to the nightstand where a few complementary brochures were sitting. Tossing a few aside, he finally located one about nearby hiking trails and dragged it over to his family.

"The state park?"

Sam shrugged, tapping the picture of the vast forests of the park. Honestly, he didn't know if it was the park or not. All he knew was there were a lot of trees and it was to the east.

"Just the woods then," John concluded, pulling a larger map out of his bag and scanning over it. "Were you a cat the whole time?"

"No," Sam shook his head.

"Dad, what are you getting at?" Dean questioned. "What does this have to do with finding Sam?"

"I think the cat is Sam."

Overwhelmed with relief that he finally got through to his family, Sam leaped into his fathers arms, hugging him as well as he could. John gently run his fingers down his furry back in a soothing motion.

"We'll fix this, Sammy," John whispered. "I promise."

Sam nodded, pulling away and allowing his dad to set him gently on the table. Dean, who had been in some sort of silent shock until this point, finally exploded.

"Sammy! That's- What the H%$#! How did you- When- Who do I have to kill?"

"Relax, Dean," John ordered, softly running his fingers over Sam's injuries. "How much of this blood is yours?"

"No sure," the young teen admitted with a shrug.

His father nodded and gently picked him back up. Cradling him in one arm, he fished out his keys and headed for the door. Now what?

"Where are we going?" Dean asked, pulling on his coat.

"Where we should have gone yesterday."

* * *

There you have it, the cat is out of the ... er ... coffee can.

Any guesses on where john might be taking his furry little boy?

As I said before, all feedback is more than welcome.

Also, I would love to post a new chapter by Monday and reviews encourage me to write faster. Seriously, with all the great reviews I got on the last chapter, this one would have been posted yesterday if I hadn't still been getting over a cold. (Curse you NyQuil!) Now I am (pretty much) better and ready to write. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry this took longer then expected. I ended up working on homework most of Saturday and then today was Super Bowl Sunday and we had people over to watch the game. I didn't even get around to writing this until almost 11:30pm. (For being written in an hour and a half in the middle of the night, I think it turned out pretty well.)

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Dean followed his dad into the vet, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. He hadn't messed up this bad since he had left Sammy alone with a striga on the loose. Now his brother was a two pound kitten and more vulnerable than ever. In the last day he had almost been killed at least five times, and two of those had been because of Dean. No wonder Dad wouldn't let him hold Sam, he would probably just get him hurt again.

"We need some help here," John told the woman behind the front desk, showing her Sam.

"Oh my goodness," she gasped. "What happened to the poor thing?"

"He got out a couple days ago," John lied, placing his free hand over the tiny, furry body. "We aren't really sure what happened, we just want to make sure he is okay."

"Of course," the woman smiled, holding our a clipboard. "Please fill out these forms and take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly."

What do you know, Dean thought and he took the paperwork and headed to the row of plastic chairs. Looks like an ER is and ER whether your a man or a mutt. However, the paperwork was defiantly different. Checking the boxes for a male cat, Dean marked down that Sam was up to date on all his shots and that they were not in need of any form of worming treatment. He wasn't sure if any of that would be harmful to his brother once they got him back to normal, but why take the risk?

"Hey Dad, what should I put down for age?"

"Fourteen weeks."

Under breed he put Persian, remembering what the other vets said, and he just made up the rest. He turned in the clipboard and went back to his seat, trying not to stare at his transformed brother. How could he have been so stupid? First leaving him alone outside the school, then not recognizing him when he came back. H*%#, he must have been trying for days to get his attention, but what does he do? Feed him to a dog, leave him with a bunch of girls at a bar, leave him in a coffee can for hours. He was officially the worst big brother ever.

"Mow," came a soft call, accompanied by a paw on his arm.

Dean looked down into those big puppy dog eyes, Sammy's eyes. He forced a smile and gently ruffled the fur between his ears.

"I'm okay, Sammy."

"Mow mrow," Sam scowled.

Knowing he must have just been corrected on the name, Dean's smile became genuine. Even when they weren't the same species, he and his brother were still on the same wave length. Which was a bit creepy when you thought about it … However, he didn't have much time to do that since their name was called only a few minutes after turning in the paperwork. If only ER's for people were this quick.

"Okay," a perky blond nurse smiled as she led them into an exam room. "What seems to be the problem with Sammy?"

"He got loose for a few days," John repeated, setting Sam on the table. "We just want to make sure that he doesn't have any serious injuries."

The nurse looked him over and shook her head. Suddenly Dean's heart began to beat faster. What did she see? Was there something that obviously wrong and he missed it?

"Is there a problem?" John inquired, placing his hand protectively over Sam.

"Oh, no," the nurse said quickly. "I was just thinking how lucky this little guy is."

"This is lucky?" Dean scoffed, motioning to the splotches of blood.

"Well, think about it," she started, setting her paperwork on the counter and ticking things off on her fingers. "Outside a cat this size is a risk of being killed by cars, dogs, raccoons, eagles, possums, and even other cats. Then there is the human element. I mean, it's disturbing the kinds of things people will do to animals, even cute little guys like this."

Dean could feel more color drain from his face with each thing she added to the list. Stuff that normally wouldn't even show up are their radar were now deadly threats. There was only one thing to do. Until they fixed this, Sam was never their sight. He wouldn't even touch the ground. He will be carried to and from the car and hotel room. No Rocky repeats to him. Just by looking at his dad, Dean could tell John was in total agreement. Sammy, however, wasn't and meowed loudly at the nurse, probably to get her back on track.

"Alright then," she nodded, picking up the paperwork and looking it over. "So he's already had his shots?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, still not quite over the metal image of his baby brother as a patch of furry road kill.

"That's good," the nurse said, making a few notes of her own. "Were you interested in getting him fixed today?"

Pulled out of his thoughts by the question, Dean was only mildly surprised when Sam leaped into his arms and ducked under his coat, not that he blamed him. He placed a comforting hand over the bulge in his jacket, silently conveying that he would not let anyone take his little brother's manhood without a fight. The nurse was startled at the reaction, but John quickly got her attention, firmly stating that they would NOT be "fixing" Sam any time soon.

"Are you sure?" she cautioned. "Because you don't want to wait too long or he might start spraying,"

"We're sure," Dean answered. "Sammy's already enough of a girl without- ow!"

Matching the glare coming from under his coat, Dean almost missed the nurses next question. But based on Sam's reaction, he didn't.

"Okay, so why don't you just put him on the table so I can take his temperature, huh?"

Easier said then done. Because the second she said the word 'temperature' his furry baby brother made a mad scramble into his inside coat pocket. Once again, he didn't blame the little guy, but this was something he supported. If Sammy had a fever, they needed to know.

"Come on, ya wuss," Dean muttered, trying to pry the cat out of his coat. "Take it like a man."

"Meow mrow mow mrow!" came the muffled response.

Dean tried to reach into the pocket, but a single paw batted his hand away.

"Stop being a pansy," he ordered, reaching past the paw and receiving minor scratches for his trouble.

"Sam," John snapped, clearly tired of hide and seek. "get your a$% out here now."

"Mow mrooow!" Sam wined.

"Don't make me pull you out," their father warned.

Slowly and sulking, Sam pulled himself out of the coat and plopped down on the table. Abut d&^*# time. The nurse, thermometer in hand, just shook her head in amazement.

"You know, I've often wondered if cats can understand us, but I really think this one can."

"No kidding," Dean grumbled, rubbing the red marks on his hand.

After she took all Sam's vitals, the doctor came in for a full examination. For once luck was on their side and, aside from some minor cuts and bruises, the little guy seemed alright. Thank God. And now that they knew he was okay, it was time to hunt down the b^s*a$d that did this to him. And when Dean got his hands on the son of a b^%$# he would show no mercy, because no one messed with Sammy and got away with it. No one.

* * *

What did you think?

I've had little to no help with the last two chapters (I normally have a two or three people to, at the very least, bounce ideas off of, but with these chapters I have only had one person to help with a couple of small parts in each. Thank you Monkeymuse. :) ) So feedback is more than welcome.

Oh, and let me know when you would like the next chapter posted. (Ask and you shall receive. :) )


	15. Chapter 15

Have I ever mentioned how hard it is for me to write John? Seriously, it can be really annoying how often I get stuck.

If you didn't guess, that was what happened with this chapter. After the fourth road block I said "screw it!" and rewrote the whole thing without John. (Sorry if you guys liked having him around, but I can update a lot faster when he is gone.)

Anyway, here is what I came up with (mostly between 12:30-3:00 in the morning the last couple nights, so please excuse the typos).

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Sam yawned and stretched before curling back up on the couch, his eyes fixed on the blue and green movie on the screen. They had been back at the hotel no more than a minute when John had devised an alphabet sheet for communication. It was crude and slow spelling out everything he wanted to say, but he still managed to explain what happened. After giving the usual lecture on watching your surroundings so you don't get blindsided by a human, his dad took off in search of the alter. However, John Winchester's impressive tracking ability aside, the woods were huge and it could be days before he found and destroyed the thing. So, until that time, the brothers were confined to the hotel room. At least this one had a decent number of channels. The last crap hole John had told them not to leave only had two.

"Hey!" Sam protested as the channel started to flip through the various options. "I was watching that!"

"You know the rules, Sammy," Dean said, dropping onto the couch. "He who has the remote is king."

Glaring at teenage giant now sitting next to him, Sam thought of a variation to the rule that involved claws. However, in his current state, there really wasn't much he could do … unless Dean continued channel surfing. Taking advantage of his brothers attention span, or lack of in this situation, Sam calculated the distance across the couch as well as the hight Dean was holding the remote. It could work, but there was only one way to find out. He backed up against the arm of the couch, lining himself up with his goal, and took a leap of faith. The force of impact succeed in knocking the remote to the other side of the couch, where Sam immediately covered it with his furry body.

"Ha!" Sam shouted in triumph, quickly switching back to his movie. "Who's king now, jerk?"

"Cute, Nermal," Dean muttered, reaching toward him.

"No," Sam hissed, batting his brother's hand away.

Unfortunately even the threat of claws was no match for an over-sized brother. Dean simply picked him up by the scruff of the neck and plucked the remote from where it sat on the couch. And if that wasn't enough, he had to have that smug grin on his face.

"Not so effective when you're only two pounds, huh?"

If it wasn't official before, it certainly was now; being a cat sucked.

**^-^P^-^E^-^A^-^N^-^U^-^T^-^B^-^U^-^T^-^T^-^E^-^R^-^A^-^N^-^D^-^N^-^I^-^N^-^J^-^A^-^**

Sam shifted under his blanket, trying to find sleep. He was tired, freakishly so, but unlike real cats had not been able to calm down enough to truly relax. First there was the all nighter trying to find his hotel, followed by his time in the coffee can. At least this time he was in his own bed with his brother snoring nearby. Maybe that was what was keeping him awake. Normally the sound of Dean breathing was soothing, now it sounded like a chain saw.

"Dean," he mewed.

But the older teen was out like a light. Not that he would have been able to do much if he had been awake. Still, a dark hotel room could be a pretty freaky place when you had heightened senses. He could hear the people going by on their way to find a good time, see the shadows cast in odd shades of blue and green, smell the rats the inhabited the walls … and the one that didn't.

"What the-"

Sam's fur stood on end as he bolted upright. Sure enough, one of the hotel's permanent residence had made it's way into their room, and right to the edge of Dean's bed. The thing was almost as big as he was, sniffing around for scraps to call it's dinner. Knowing how many diseases that thing carried, Sam was happy to stay on his bed until the rodent wandered off into the next room, but then Dean decided to roll over. The movement startled the furry occupants, but neither moved as the teen swung his arm over the edge of the bed. This got the rat's attention as he sniffed at the fingers dangling above the floor, it's sharp teeth ready to taste flesh. Oh h^*$ no!

"Back off!" Sam hissed, arching his back.

The rodent hissed back, but held his ground. Looks like he wanted a fight with his snack. Bring it Ben! Dean hated rats and, no matter how big a jerk he had been recently, there was no way Sam was going to let him get rabies from Willard's second half.

Jumping off the bed, he was almost immediately engaged by his furry enemy. Though he managed to avoid the teeth, the claws were a different story. The two struggled for several minutes, rolling across the floor, until Sam managed to get his jaws around the back of the rat's neck. A jerk of his head and an audible snap later it was over.

"Gross," Sam almost gagged, licking his paw to try to rid his tongue of any trace of the vile vermin.

Looking up to check on his brother, he wasn't all that surprised to see that Dean had slept through the whole thing. Figures. But now he had the problem of what to do with the dead rat in the middle of the floor. Sam glanced around, and soon spotted something next to the bed.

"Hmm," he purred to himself, ginning wickedly. "That could work."

After disposing of the rodent, Sam climbed back up on the bed feeling better than he had since this whole mess started. His dad was out finding a way to change him back, he just saved his brother from a rat, and even managed to arrange a little surprise for said brother. Everything was going back to normal. With that thought, he curled up on his pillow and dreamed of days without a tail.

* * *

Anyone care to guys what Sam did with the rat?

Let me know what you think and I'll get started on the next chapter. (Which also will not have John in it and therefore should be up in a couple of days.)


	16. Chapter 16

**(: HELLO READERS! I'M BACK ... AGAIN! :)**

So, I now know what it is like to have complete writers block. (Even my school work was suffering.) For the past few months (since about the time I recovered from tendinitis in my right arm) I have barely been able to write ANYTHING, despite repeated attempts to pull me out of it. (Just so you know, it SUCKED)

****On a side note;** my last attempt was a Supernatural one-shot (called "The Price We Pay") received next to no response, similar to other one-shots I have written for this fandom and I am wondering if you don't like them. If so, I can always stick to multi-chapter fics when it comes to my Supernatural stories. Just let me know.******

Anyway, after seeking the advice of a fellow writer, I was finally able to climb off the block and return to my first love.

Here is the (long awaited) continuation of "Cat's Eye." (The first chapter of many to come.) BTW, many of you were correct in your guess of what happened to the dead rat, but I won't mention who.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Dean woke and stretched, startled when he saw a pair of unblinking green-blue eyes staring at him. And this wasn't a normal Sammy stare. This was a wide-eyes-ready-to-glow stare. It was unnerving, but there was no reason to tell Sam that. Instead, he just sat on the edge of the bed and stared right back, quickly learning why you should not enter a staring contest with a cat. However, considering that the cat was also his kid brother, he could not lose either. So, Dean did the only thing he could do; he shot out his fist stopping an inch from the little guy's nose.

"Made ya blink," he smirked, standing to his feet.

Sam growled in response, but continued to watch him from his spot on the bed. Even standing over him, the unblinking eyes still freaked him out. Of course, he could just ignore the look. After all, it wasn't Sam's fault that his cat stare was so creepy. Then again, that wasn't the big brother way.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Dean started, pulling off his shirt and dropping it on his furry brother. "Entertain yourself."

Now that the creepiness was blocked under a mound of black fabric, he could relax under a stream of hot water. And relax he did. Normally Dean couldn't indulge himself with a long shower since there was always someone else that needed to take one or they were in a hurry to kill the latest bump in the night. But with his dad putting them on lock-down until he destroyed the alter and Sam needing no more than a cupful of water to bathe in, he was going to enjoy a nice long-

"HOLY S#*%!"

Acting purely on instinct, Dean shot out his hand, knocking the now ice cold stream of water to his right … and noticed a sound coming from his left. Sticking his head out of the curtain, the teen immediately noticed two things. First was that the water was running in the sink. The second, a gray tail disappearing under the door. That furry little-

"SAM!"

Grabbing a towel, Dean stepped out of the shower and stormed into the main room. Sam was perched on his bed. His eyes were wide and innocent, his smug grin anything but. Punk-a$* little b^*#&.

"I suppose you think your funny?"

He shrugged his furry shoulders and stretched lazily. Not taking his glare off the feline menace, Dean walked around to his duffel and started to get dressed. Of course, he spent the entire time letting Sam-Cat know that this meant war.

"You wanna play? Fine," he growled, pulling clean clothes out of his bag. "First we're gonna go to the store and get you one of those pink frou-frou collars; with bells. Then I'm gonna go find Rocky for a play date. Then-"

He continued his rant through putting on his shirt, pants, and socks. Still, the little guy didn't seem phased … until he reached for his boots.

"And I don't care if Dad turns you back in an hour, you are SO eating all that tuna flavored- what the H%$^!"

Chucking his boot across the room, Dean drew his gun as Sam ducked under the bed. All thoughts of payback went out the window as he stepped between his brother and approached whatever was hiding in his shoe. Cautiously he bent down and lifted the boot to reveal … a dead rat? How the h*%$ did a dead rat get in his- oh …

"You are SO DEAD!" Dean growled, flipping the bed completely on his side and sending the objects on the nightstand flying. "Your furry a%$ is mine!"

There was a brief moment of confusion when he didn't immediately find the quivering little fur ball, but that quickly passed when he notice the fabric covering the bottom of the box-spring was moving. Flipping out his pocket knife, Dean cut through the thin layer several inches above his brother's hiding place and reached inside.

"Come here you little flea bag," he muttered, trying to maneuver around the springs as his fingers brushed against the kitten's back.

Sam responded by moving to the other side of the bed, causing his brother to make another cut, only to move again. At this point, Dean was through playing games. Gripping the flimsy cloth, he ripped the whole thing off and exposed the traitorous little kitten.

"Nowhere to go now, Nermal."

Just as he lunged forward the phone rang, breaking his concentration for a split second and allowing Sam to scramble farther into the springs. D^&% it. It rang again and Dean contemplated ignoring it, but since there was a strong chance that it was their dad he couldn't take the risk. Groping through the mess on the floor with one hand while still trying to grab the kitten with the other, the teen finally cursed under his breath and dove for the phone as Sam jumped out of the box-spring and raced across the floor.

"What?" he snapped, watching the gray tail slip out of sight under the couch.

"There better be something attacking you," John shot back.

"No sir," Dean replied. "But I'm about to become an only child."

"And what exactly did the **two pound** kitten do?"

"He put a rat in my shoe!"

"And?"

"And he messed with my shower!"

"And?"

"And … he looked at me!"

"Dean."

He let out a frustrated sigh and looked back at the couch. Okay, so he didn't have the most rational argument in the world, and he wouldn't defy the one word order from his dad, but just because he wouldn't kill Sammy didn't mean the fur ball wasn't going to pay.

"Hey, do you think a bald cat would turn into a bald kid?"

"Leave your brother alone," John stated, ending the discussion. "I picked up a trail that might have been Sam's, but it still might be a while before I find the alter. Let me know if anything changes with him."

"Yes sir."

The call ended and Dean tossed the phone onto his bed. So he couldn't shave Sam, or really do anything that his dad might notice when the kid was back on two legs. He was going to have to get a bit more creative in his revenge … and a quick glance over his shoulder gave him an idea of exactly how that was going to happen.

* * *

What do you think?

It's a bit shorter than I intended, but I figured you had waited long enough (Monkeymuse). Also if there various subtle (and not so subtle) hints and messages I was getting (Monkeymuse) were any indication, you were getting impatient for an update (Monkeymuse).

Let me know if it met with your satisfaction while I see how quickly I can write the next chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello again. I needed a pick me up and thought you might too. (Like a new update in your inbox. :) )**

Normally I wouldn't bother you guys with the details of why I have been absent, but under the circumstances (nearly a year without a "Supernatural" posting of any kind) I figured you deserved an explanation:

_As some of you know, I have suffered from metal issues (depression, anxiety, ect ... ) for several years now, but the symptoms improved after I started seeing a wonderful therapist named Roger Frank. With his help, and encouragement from fellow writers, I was working on getting back in the saddle, so to speak, and wrap up my unfinished stories. One week and three days after posting chapter 16 of "Cat's Eye," Roger was found dead in his car; apparent heart failure._

_The lost of Roger was so devastating for me that I couldn't watch/read/or write for any show that was emotionally intense. Because of this I haven't watched more than two or three episodes of any CW show since then and therefore lost my momentum on all things "Supernatural." As my mental state began to deteriorate farther, I underwent a change of medication, as well as a 12 week therapy treatment with a new counselor, to try and combat my worsening symptoms._

_This is the first chapter in this fandom that I have completed since Roger's death. I ment to do more, but I'm just going to have to take this one step at a time. I hope you will all be patient with me as I try to do what I set out to do all those months ago; finish all that I started._

**Now that the gloomy part is out of the way, I hope the continuation of this story lifts your spirits as much as it did mine ...**

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Sam crouched inside the stuffy couch, wishing that his feline hearing was better. Of course his hearing in this form was excellent, but he still couldn't make out what was happening beyond the cushions. However, what he could use less of at the moment was his sense of smell. He couldn't even identify all of what was in the couch, but fear of Dean's anger kept him firmly in his hiding spot inside the back of the cheap piece of hotel furniture. But after several minutes, Sam realized that the room had gone silent. Did his brother leave? Creeping back down to the floor, Sam peered around what he could see of the room.

"Dean?" he mewed.

The boots, and rat, were gone. So was his brother from what he could see. But why would he leave? Did it have something to do with the phone call? Was their dad in trouble? Or was he even really gone? Inching forward, Sam stuck his nose out into the main room, sniffing for any hint of what was there.

"Dean?"

He could still smell the older teen, but that didn't mean much since he could still smell his dad as well. Poking his head out, Sam slowly left the safety of the couch, keeping an eye out for an ambush. But the room seemed deserted.

"De- AK!" Sam choked as he was yanked into the air.

"Ha!" Dean grinned triumphantly, leaning over the back of the couch. "You know, I always heard patience was a virtue, but I never put much stock into it until now."

Sam could only glare at him as he attempted to squirm out of his grasp. However, he quickly found that it was useless and he was completely at the mercy of his older brother. Crap. Every prank war they had ever had flashed through his mind, and with him too small to fight back, he was in real trouble.

"Ah, don't worry Sammy," Dean started, his voice deceptively innocent as he made his way across the room. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Yeah," he grumbled, trying once again to get a claw into his brother's hand. "You're just gonna kill me."

Sam tensed as Dean carried him into the bathroom, knowing how many possibilities the tiny room held. Was he going to shave him? Bleach him? Give him a swirly, which in his current state would be more like a bath? A sweet scent drew his attention to the sink, where a bowl of blue gunk caught his attention.

"Dean," Sam growled as soon as he recognized the smell. "Do and DIE!"

Not that his warning did much good. Seconds later he found himself trying hard to claw his way out of the sink as his loving brother smeared Kool-aid past all over him. As soon as he lost his tail, Dean was gonna pay.

**^-^P^-^E^-^A^-^N^-^U^-^T^-^B^-^U^-^T^-^T^-^E^-^R^-^A^-^N^-^D^-^N^-^I^-^N^-^J^-^A^-^**

Sam rubbed his side and sighed. A long shower under the faucet had only succeeded in turning his fur from a splotchy bright blue to a splotchy pale blue. It wasn't so bad, IF he pretended that what he was seeing was true. The discarded packets with the word STRAWBERRY splashed across them let him know what color he really was. Dean was SO going to pay for this.

"I've got lunch ready when your done primping!"

Tempted to ignore his brother's yell, Sam quickly thought better of it. One sugary dip was bad enough, if he pushed his luck too far, Dean may try for tie dye. Nope, he was going to have to keep his furry head down, at least until his dad destroyed that alter and made him human again. At that point, all bets were off.

"Awe," Dean cooed when he padded around the corner. "Don't you look sweet?"

Laughing at his own lame attempt at humor, his older brother turned back to the giant sandwich he was preparing. Sadly, it was clear the delicious looking meal was not meant for him and Sam stared glumly at the can of tuna that had been opened on the counter. At least it was real tuna and not flavored cat food, but it still only served as a reminder of how much his life currently sucked.

"Eat up, Sammy," the older teen instructed, smearing mayo over a slice of bread.

Looking from his meager lunch to the small feast Dean was preparing, as well as the smug smirk on his brother's face, Sam could feel his fur bristle in anger. But what could he do about it? His answer came when Dean turned to put the left over ingredients in the motel fridge. Quick as he could, Sam scampered across the counter and flipped off the top slice of bread, leaving a few hairs embedded in the mayo. Next, he wolfed down the turkey as fast as he could. Not that it was hard, he was starving for a decent meal. He had just started on the cheese when a shout had him scrambling back toward the safety of the couch.

"Not so fast," Dean growled, catching him by the tail.

Sam yelped, twisting around to try and free the cursed appendage. Unfortunately, that allowed him to be caught by the scuff of the neck. A moment later he was suspended in the air, completely at the mercy of his older brother.

"Well, Nermal," Dean started with a humorless grin. "Abu Dhabi is sounding pretty good right now, don't you think?"

Just when Sam was wondering if he would live long enough to return to human form, he heard someone outside. Ears twitching, he looked toward the door, half hoping it was some monster that would take his brother's mind off his revenge.

"Dean!" the perky voice called out, followed by three quick raps. "Dean, are you in?"

Crap, Sam thought as he rolled his eyes. As if his life couldn't suck anymore, now he had the hotel manager's daughter showing up to pine over his brother. At least she seemed to have left the rest of the cheer squad behind.

"Kinda busy, Bethany," Dean called back, his glare not wavering for a second. "Can you come back later?"

"I only have a minute," she answered, her voice rushed. "I just brought some things over for you."

Letting out his own frustrated growl, his brother promptly dropped in in the bath tub and went to the door. Grateful for the brief distraction, Sam attempted to make his getaway. But just to add to his luck, the tub appeared to be in need of some Drano … or maybe some new pipes. At least a majority of the water was gone, but the thin layer left behind was almost worse than if the shower was still on. Slipping and sliding on the smooth porcelain surface, the furry teen could barely stay on his feet, much less leap to freedom.

"Sorry about that," his brother's voice drifted in from the other room.

"It's alright," Bethany giggled, nearly making Sam gag. "But I saw these things in the store and thought they would be perfect for your cat."

"My cat?"

"Uh-huh, they were just so adorable I couldn't resist. I got the safety kind, so you won't have to worry about snagging. I really hope she likes them."

Sam stopped struggling so suddenly that he nearly face planted in the bottom of the tub. Did she just say- Oh h%#^ no ...

"Oh yes," Dean said, his grin nearly audible. "I'm sure **she** will love them."

And that was when he heard the unmistakable sound of a jingle bell. When this was over, Sam was going to kill his brother.

* * *

Well, that's all I have for you at the moment.

Please let me know what you think, your encouragement is much appreciated. I won't make any promises on when the next chapter will be up, but it was a few reviews (thank you Supermikeyninjalady and Original1) that got me to pull this one, half finished, out of the moth balls a couple weeks back. So you never know ...


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